


axis mundi

by wondybread



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: F/F, hope and annabelle are bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:00:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22006576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondybread/pseuds/wondybread
Summary: "Hope wants to cry because it's her, it's finally her. They're on the same continent. They speak the same language."Hope has been searching for Amy for as long as she can remember. And finally finds her here and now.or the au in which Hope is reborn constantly, drawn to Amy in each lifetime, and ultimately stumbles across her in high school after years without.
Relationships: Amy & Molly (Booksmart), Amy/Hope (Booksmart), Annabelle & Hope (Booksmart), Annabelle | Triple A/Molly (Booksmart)
Comments: 97
Kudos: 349





	1. And hit a World, at every plunge

Hope is sixteen years-old when her parents whisk her away to Los Angeles. In the middle of the school year. She's not angry with them per se, they've moved often enough to sidestep that entirely. She's just...resigned.  
  
She walks into her first class and she can feel people's eyes on her, even though she'd tried to get there early. She takes a seat in the back and pulls out a book to read. When class finally starts, the teacher introduces Hope without preamble, who only gives a hollow wave in return, before they dive right into pre-calculus. Hope notes how one girl's gaze pauses on her curiously before turning to the front of the class.  
  
Hope sees her again in English. The girl gives a cursory glance of the room before plopping down into a seat right behind Hope. She expects the girl to tap her on the shoulder and talk to her. And Hope really doesn't want this, content to finish this year as quickly and with as little interaction as possible. But the girl doesn't. In fact, Hope forgets about her until the end of class. When Hope is putting away her things, the girl is standing in the aisle, near the top corner of Hope's desk. Hope straightens, waiting.  
  
"I'm Annabelle. Come sit with me at lunch," she says.  
  
Hope frowns. "I don't need your like, pity or anything."  
  
"I wasn't giving you any," the girl, Annabelle, says with a shrug. "And I wasn't asking. Sit with me," she repeats over her shoulder as she walks away. Hope doesn't move for a moment, genuinely confused, before sighing and going to her next class.  
  
Hope has a book tucked under her lunch tray. She would much rather sit alone and read. But she sees Annabelle at a table already, who meets her gaze with a neutral expression before going back to her food. Hope can't explain it but she finds herself making her way over and sitting down carefully across from Annabelle. There are two other boys a couple of seats away as well: Tanner and another boy whose name Hope has already forgotten.  
  
"Hey! New girl! I'm Tanner, what's your name?" he asks loudly and his friend leans over eagerly, wiggling his eyebrows. 

"Is there anyone here that you wanna -"

Hope scowls but before she can say anything Annabelle beats her to it.  
  
"Don't be a dick, dick splinter," Annabelle interrupts coolly. "I told her to sit here so people wouldn't bug her. Not so you could whip out your unwashed penis at the only girl who's been blessed enough not to have seen it."  
  
The other boy holds up a hand to his chest in mock hurt as Tanner snickers next to him. Tanner tosses a straw at him and they resume whatever game they had been playing.  
  
Hope gives Annabelle a small smile, who only gives her a slight shrug in return.  
  
"My name's Hope," Hope tells her softly. Annabelle nods but otherwise doesn't say anything. Hope opens her book tentatively at first but Annabelle doesn't seem interested in starting a conversation with her as she thumbs passively through her phone. Hope thinks that Annabelle will try to talk to her at one point or another but she never does. A companionable silence sits between them.  
  
A bell tolls some twenty minutes later and Hope looks up from her book just in time to see Annabelle toss both of their lunch trays into a nearby trashcan.  
  
"Warning bell," Annabelle informs her as Hope slips her bookmark into its place. "What's your next class?"  
  
"World history."  
  
"Same. Walk together?" Annabelle rises.  
  
Hope notices that it's a question this time. And she doesn't know why but she feels this is a progression of sorts. Hope stands as well and they walk towards their class in silence again.  
  
Hope doesn't always know what to say and she's been labelled many things in the past for it. Annabelle doesn't seem to mind Hope's silences and in fact, seems quite comfortable in them. Despite herself, Hope is very grateful for Annabelle. Annabelle catches her eye then and offers Hope a small grin as if she knows.

\---

A week later, Hope hears her before she sees her and her heart stops.  
  
"I liked the canal cruise," says the girl thoughtfully.  
  
Hope drops everything she's holding and turns so suddenly towards the voice, heart in her throat, that Annabelle jumps.  
  
"I'm glad someone did, because _someone else_ was hurling over the edge," another girl grumbles.  
  
"Yeah, that wasn't a good look. And I know you wanted to spend more time at the Van Gogh Museum, Molly," the first girl says sympathetically, throwing an arm around the second girl, Molly. "We'll go back one day and do it all over again but better." 

Hope watches hungrily as the pair walks by, tears pinpricking the corners of her eyes because it has been decades since she'd last seen her.  
  
"You bet your ass we'll do it better. We'll go to the Red Light District and we'll find you a..." They're too far away to hear but Hope continues to watch their receding figures until she can't see them any longer even when she cranes her neck.  
  
"Dude, what was that about?" Annabelle asks, kneeling to pick up Hope's papers and books. Hope follows suit but doesn't say anything as she tries to regain her breath, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. 

Annabelle catches sight of Hope's face and touches the sleeve of her jacket. "Hope?"  
  
"Sorry," Hope mutters, averting her gaze as she gathers her papers. "I just didn't really sleep last night and it's fucking me up."  
  
Hope can tell that Annabelle doesn't believe her but Annabelle remains quiet, handing the rest of Hope's stuff to her. As much as Annabelle has been a great friend this past week, it has still only been a week and Hope doesn't think she's quite ready for the truth. _Not yet_ , Hope thinks.  
  
"Who was that girl?" Hope asks, nodding in the girls' general direction. She doesn't even try to be nonchalant, doesn't try to hide the longing in her voice.  
  
"Molly Davidson?" Annabelle replies.  
  
Hope shakes her head. "The other girl."  
  
"Amy Antsler?"  
  
"Amy," Hope repeats softly as if to herself, testing the name out on her tongue. That's her name in this life and it feels like the first sip of water after a drought. Annabelle regards her for a moment.  
  
"Yes, Amy. She's kind of quiet but she's nice, I've never heard her say anything mean about anyone. She's one of the smartest girls in our class, rivaling Molly. Some people say she and Molly are dating..." Annabelle trails off, moving to stand. Hope looks at her sharply as she does the same.  
  
"Is she?" Hope swallows, conflicted by the fact that Amy may be attracted to girls but may also already be spoken for.  
  
"She hasn't said, but she hasn't really dated around either. She's always with Molly." Annabelle shrugs. Hope sees that Annabelle wants to ask more questions, even opens her mouth to say something more, but stops when she sees the almost pleading look in Hope's eyes. Annabelle raises her brow and Hope nods curtly.  
  
_We'll talk about it next time_. And that seems to be enough for now. Hope feels a surge of gratitude that Annabelle always, without question, allows Hope her silences.  
  
They part ways and Hope proceeds throughout the day in a daze, except when she sees Amy in two of her classes. In those classes, Hope openly stares. Annabelle is also there, in one of them and she strategically drops her pencil when their teacher looks their way, giving Hope time to school her expression into one of attentiveness. 

But in the other class, Annabelle isn't there to cover for Hope and the teacher scolds her within the first ten minutes. And everyone is whipping around in their seats to look at her, including Amy. Except Hope only sees Amy, sees the way her muscles stretch along the long column of her throat as she turns her head, the way her brow lifts almost imperceptibly when she finds that she doesn't recognize Hope. The way, even from this great distance, Amy's eyes are impossibly green and impossibly kind. Hope grips the desk in a feeble attempt to stay grounded as she mumbles an apology.  
  
When the bell rings, Hope flies out of the classroom and goes straight home. Hope doesn't meet her that day. She is both dismayed and relieved by this.

\--- 

When Hope sees Amy for the second time, less than six feet away from her, it feels like the first and she is overwhelmed without the disordered protection of students hurrying past them. So, Hope ducks away and dry heaves over the side of the bleachers. She's recovering herself when she feels an arm at her elbow. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees that it's not Annabelle.  
  
"Hope?" Amy asks with a concerned tilt in her head, kneeling in front of her. Hope nods when her voice fails her. "Are you okay?" Amy continues hesitantly. Hope nods again, entranced by her frowning lips, the freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. 

Suddenly, Hope falls through the time-loop of her memories and she remembers the vague smell of funnel cake. Maybe they've been to a fair before? As Hope’s breathing becomes normal, Amy gives Hope a slow grin that makes her heart ache.  
  
"I'm Amy, by the way, I don't think we've officially met." Amy pauses and leans towards Hope who forces herself to remain still. "Crowds can sometimes make me nervous too," Amy whispers almost conspiratorially.  
  
Hope wants to cry because it's her, it's finally her. They're on the same continent. They speak the same language. It's goddamn poetic. Before Hope can reply, Annabelle arrives at the bottom of the bleachers, takes one look at her face, and makes a beeline towards her.  
  
"Feel better, Hope," Amy says, rising and turning to Annabelle when she gets to them. 

"Let me know if you need anything. I might have it in my fanny pack." Amy pats it securely before making her way back to her spot where Molly has just arrived with nachos.  
  
Annabelle drops down next to Hope, staring in Amy's general direction with something between a mix of awe and disbelief. Hope imagines her own expression is more or less the same. _Probably more_ , she thinks.  
  
"That's the girl you've chosen to love," Annabelle tells her, shaking her head. Hope wants to tell her that it isn't really a choice. It's just the only thing that matters. That she has been chasing Amy across centuries and in each and every one of them, Hope has felt an emptiness that doesn't leave until she finds Amy. That she finally feels full after so many lifetimes without Amy. That seeing Amy now, in the flesh, makes Hope feel so alive that she may burst at the seams. 

Annabelle glances in Amy's and Molly's direction before offering Hope her water bottle. Hope takes it and Annabelle gives her a small, defeated smile. Annabelle may not have centuries tucked into her back pocket, but Hope suspects she understands a little of it anyway.  
  
Towards the middle of their sophomore year, Amy comes out. It's also the first time Hope sees Amy freeze with a tentative smile on her lips when she sees Ryan walk into school.  
  
"It's just a school-girl crush, Hope," Annabelle tells her, her tone light and teasing. And Hope doesn't know if she's referring to Amy's crush or Hope's. She desperately wishes that Annabelle is right but she has a sneaking suspicion that she isn't. 

Hope chances one last look at Amy, who watches Ryan's receding figure with an infatuated sigh. Hope's stomach twists at the sight. And even though everything in Hope protests against it, Hope decides that she _will not touch_ Amy Antsler.

\---

But Hope can talk to her.  
  
Right?  
  
If Hope has to watch the way Amy falls over herself every time she interacts with Ryan, then _surely_ the universe won't punish Hope for talking to her. _Having to watch her want someone else is punishment enough_ , Hope thinks sourly. And sure, sometimes Hope's comments to Amy could be considered...biting. But it's not all the time, Hope reasons. She can't help but feel a little bitter at the fact that Amy doesn't seem to recognize their inexorable pull towards each other. Ryan seems to overshadow this pull.  
  
"Dude, fix your face," Annabelle tells her. "I know Ryan stands between you and your epic lesbian romance but she's chill. And she's literally just standing there."  
  
Hope tears her gaze away from Ryan and glowers at Annabelle.  
  
"Have a thing for Ryan now?"  
  
"You wish," Annabelle responds evenly.  
  
"It sure as hell would make my life a lot easier," Hope retorts. She looks sideways at Annabelle. "But it's Molly you love."  
  
Annabelle stills.  
  
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Annabelle tells her slowly, eyes narrow and ambushed.  
  
Hope rolls her eyes. "Please. I'm probably the only one who understands. We're practically in the same shitty boat."  
  
They stare at each other before Annabelle looks away for a moment, arms folded.  
  
"It's a crush. It was supposed to go away," Annabelle mumbles. "You can't tell anyone."  
  
"Haven't for a year."  
  
Annabelle blows out a breath as she reaches for her books and shuts her locker.  
  
"Looks like you and I are done for, huh?" Annabelle gives her a small, grim smile.  
  
Hope snorts. "You have no idea."  
  
So, perhaps it comes out a little harsher than usual when Hope teases Amy about getting Ms. Fine's phone number. But Hope has to endure the knowledge that she has been spinning for lifetimes on end searching for Amy, and actually, finally finds her. Only to be completely ignored by her. And perhaps Hope’s remarks are also pointed at Molly, who unwittingly has had her vice-like grip on Annabelle for years. All of it is a form of catharsis. _An outlet_ , Hope thinks.  
  
If she’s being honest, she simply wants an opportunity to be seen by Amy, to make her smile. Even if she has to take it away in the same breath.

\---

“Wait, shut the fuck up for a bit, so Amy is your soulmate?” Annabelle asks with wide eyes.  
  
Hope takes the joint from her and takes a long drag.  
  
“I don’t really call it that. Because with each new life, we’re different people. But there’s this unwavering thread of something, in her and in me, in which we are inextricably linked,” Hope says.  
  
They’re at Nick’s party, sitting near the edge of the pool. Hope hadn’t meant to tell Annabelle the truth. But Annabelle had asked about Amy, had asked why Hope has never seemed to want anyone else. Hope had answered sincerely, without thinking. She figures now there isn’t much harm in being honest; it doesn’t much matter to her if Annabelle believes her and they’re about to graduate tomorrow anyway.  
  
Annabelle scrutinizes her for a moment, and Hope speculates that she’s trying to decide whether Hope is being truthful.  
  
“Do you remember her from before?” Annabelle asks finally. She takes the joint back.  
  
Hope looks down at her fidgeting hands.  
  
“She’s pretty much the only thing I remember," Hope admits. "But the memories are only these vague pockets of things. It’s kind of like déjà vu but with bits and pieces of clarity, all of them linked to her. Like once I heard her laugh at school. And it reminded me of seagulls cawing and waves crashing. So, I guess we've been together on a beach at some point. And we must have also been to a carnival once, because I remember being at the top of the Ferris wheel with her. She was blonde then. But her smile’s the same.” Hope feels a warmth spread through her at the thought.

"How do you know it's her when you find her? Does your vulva or vagina glow or something?" Annabelle asks cheekily.

"God, you're such an ass. I genuinely don't know why we're friends sometimes," Hope replies as they giggle. But when their laughter subsides, Hope sees the curiosity in Annabelle's eyes and considers her question for a moment.

"I don't really know how to describe it when I find her," Hope says, her voice faraway. "In every lifetime without her, I just feel like I'm falling or tumbling endlessly and relentlessly. Or it's like you come home one day and everything in your bedroom has shifted four inches to the left, and it keeps on changing every time you come home." Hope pauses. "And then I see her, finally find her. And I feel caught and I know which way is up and which way is down. I feel like I can navigate my room with every one of my senses dulled, even after years have passed. And it's perfect, like the entire world is rushing to align itself between us."  
  
They're quiet for a moment, and Hope watches the way the pool light dances across Annabelle's face, her expression pensive.

“Well, shit, now I goddamn hate Ryan too,” Annabelle says and Hope laughs.  
  
“The thing is, dude, I don’t hate her. I really want to, but I don’t. Ryan makes her smile.” Hope looks up at the night sky before turning back. “These last few times, I hadn’t been able to find her for whatever reason. So, I’m just lucky that we get to exist at the same time. I’m just happy I get to see her smile.”  
  
Hope expects Annabelle to tease her for being all sappy and broody and everything Hope doesn’t allow herself to be at school. But Annabelle doesn’t, instead looks down at the water thoughtfully.

“You know, you could have more if you wanted,” Annabelle says after awhile. Hope blinks.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You could be with her. I mean, yeah, you were kind of a dick to her these last couple of years but she’s gay and you’re whatever you are.”  
  
“I don’t think she looks at me like that,” Hope says somewhat softly. “I don’t think I’m what she wants.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up, you’re so conventionally attractive, it’s disgusting,” Annabelle replies, rolling her eyes before taking a puff from the joint and tossing it into a nearby cup.  
  
“I’m sorry, were you trying to tell me something encouraging or was that your way of coming onto me?”  
  
“I’ll push your ass into this pool, I swear to God, Hope,” Annabelle threatens but her eyes are shining and Hope laughs again. “I’m just saying you should stop being a little pansy bitch and go after your girl. At least let her know you don’t hate her guts and would much rather just like, rearrange them,” Annabelle continues with a crooked grin.  
  
“Inappropriate,” Hope responds, fighting a smile. “And anyway, I could say the same to you.”  
  
Hope shoots her a significant look.  
  
Annabelle shrugs. “It’s like you said, I’m just happy to see her smile.”  
  
Hope doesn’t say anything for moment as she leans down and touches her hand to the water. The water seems to spark something in her, and she looks up at Annabelle abruptly as an idea takes root.  
  
“Let’s try tonight. Let’s be a little reckless. Let’s just try to go after Molly and Amy,” Hope whispers earnestly. She feels almost giddy at the prospect. Annabelle raises her brow in astonishment but Hope continues. “What do we have to lose? High school’s almost over anyway. If it goes badly, we’ll never see them again.”  
  
“I very much may see Molly again, we’re going to the same college," Annabelle points out.  
  
“Annabelle,” Hope says in exasperation.  
  
“Alright, alright,” Annabelle concedes. “Let’s try.”  
  
Hope grins and reaches for her cup, offering it first to Annabelle.  
  
Annabelle shakes her head. “I’m DD, remember?”  
  
Hope shrugs and drains the cup quickly. They both push themselves to their feet.  
  
“Same shitty boat?” Hope asks, holding out her fist.  
  
“Same shitty boat,” Annabelle echoes with a half-grin, touching her fist to Hope’s.

\---

Hope finally abandons her rule. In a bathroom at Nick’s aunt’s house. Probably discarded among her jacket and t-shirt if she had to hazard a guess. It was a stupid rule. Amy’s kissing her, and Hope can’t get enough and why did she make that rule again?  
  
She’s touching Amy Antsler, who takes off her dress quickly and Hope can only bite her lip and stare, awestruck and greedy. Just as quickly, Amy hovers over her, lips on Hope’s again, touching Hope everywhere and Hope just wants more and more and more because this is everything she’s ever wanted.  
  
And then Amy…surprises her. It’s not bad, just unexpected and a little uncomfortable. And then there’s the vomit. As quickly as everything had started, it begins to plummet and Amy is gone with the sound of a door snapping shut.  
  
Hope feels a twinge of regret as she steps out of the shower and throws her clothes on. But just as she’s about to leave, she sees Amy’s underwear and she can’t help the smile that makes its way onto her lips. She bends down and tucks it into her pocket.  
  
There is a new, determined fire in Hope’s abdomen as she slips quietly out of the bathroom. Hope knows that every fiber of her being belongs to Amy. If the universe or Amy think that Hope is stopping here, then they’re both in for it. Because Hope has been chasing Amy across timelines, and it’s only fitting that Hope chase her in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried very hard not to write this but was so drawn to the idea of multiple lifetimes as it relates to Hope's focus on Amy in the movie. Thank you for bearing with me and for reaching the end.


	2. transitive property of congruence

Hope goes to visit Annabelle and Molly in November of her freshman year. It will be Hope's first time going to New Haven because the few times Annabelle and Hope have seen each other, Annabelle has come to her. Luckily, Hope has some friends that are going that way for Thanksgiving break and they're nice enough to drop her off in New Haven.  
  
"Honestly didn't think you had friends down there," Annabelle quips, releasing Hope from a hug.  
  
Hope snorts. "Fuck you, dude. I know you're just worried that I'm gonna replace you. And sometimes, I'm sorely tempted." Hope turns to Molly who is standing a few feet away from them, next to their couch.  
  
"It's good to see you, Molly," Hope says carefully.  
  
Molly gives her a polite nod. "It's nice to see you too, Hope. Want me to show you where the guest room is?"  
  
"Sure, but before you do, do you mind if I take a picture of all three of us? I want to send it to Amy."  
  
Hope crouches a little, holding her phone out as far as her arm will go and Annabelle moves to stand behind her as she places a hand on Hope's shoulder. Molly still isn't quite in frame and when Hope glances back, she sees that Molly is conflicted. Like she doesn't trust Hope but is really trying to. The spell is broken when Annabelle calls to her and they snap a quick picture.  
  
Hope follows Molly to their guest room as Annabelle sets about making lunch. Hope sends the picture to Amy along with a text: _finally made it to these two idiots._  
  
Molly swings open the door. "It's not much..."  
  
Hope lays her bag on the bed and turns to Molly. "Thank you for letting me crash here."  
  
Molly nods and opens her mouth to say something but seems to think better of it.  
  
"I'll let you get settled in and then we'll eat?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
Molly walks out and carefully closes the door. Hope sighs when she's alone. There's always been some strain between her and Molly, even Amy and Annabelle see it. Part of the reason why Hope's here is so that she and Molly can address it. Amy has been hinting at it since Hope had visited her in Botswana and now that Molly and Annabelle have been official for several months, Annabelle has been too.  
  
Hope brings her toiletries out of her bag to put in the bathroom before making her way back to the kitchen. She feels her phone vibrate in her pocket and she fishes it out to find a couple of texts from Amy: _#squadgoals._ Followed by a _please play nice._  
  
If the two people she loves most love Molly, then surely Hope can love Molly too.  
  
Right?

\---

Annabelle is shadowing a physician at the local hospital the night before Thanksgiving. Hope feels a mixture of dread and resignation at the thought of being alone with Molly. When Annabelle bids them goodbye, Molly doesn't seem all that pleased by the thought either.  
  
"How does Annabelle find the time for school and this shadowing gig? It's the first semester," Hope asks, nodding her thanks to Molly as she hands Hope a glass of wine.  
  
"She just does," Molly responds with a shrug. "She's pre-med, so she says that she already feels behind and she needs to start now. But it's kind of hard to get shadowing hours unless you have some connections. Thankfully, her dad hooked her up with one of his doctor friends."  
  
Hope nods and sips her wine as a silence falls between them. It's not like the silences between her and Annabelle, comforting and easy. Nor is it like the silences between her and Amy, which are so often thrilling and charged. Hope, being the quiet type, doesn't find it uncomfortable, just new.  
  
"So, how was Gaborone? I know we didn't get to talk about it much when you helped us move back in August," Molly says.  
  
Hope quirks an eyebrow. "Amy's already told you everything." Hope is a little confused because she knows this to be true.  
  
"Just wanted to hear it from you," Molly says, shrugging again. "You didn't plan to go to Botswana when you initially planned your trip."  
  
It's a statement and, again, Hope has the striking impression that Molly already knows the answer to this. She answers anyway. "No, I didn't."  
  
"So, you went for Amy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why?" Molly demands, her gaze intense. She looks almost angry and Hope is only a little taken aback. She had expected this, somewhat.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I mean, I know how incredible and brilliant and compassionate and beautiful Amy is. But you picked on her in high school. Then, you guys share one botched sexual experience and suddenly you're ready to fly across the world to see her? I just —" Molly breaks off and turns away from Hope, her jaw moving restlessly. "I'm not an optimist, Hope."  
  
"Neither am I," Hope says with a slight smile. Hope doesn't really understand what Molly's accusing her of but she _gets it._ Molly loves Amy, intensely so, and Hope considers herself lucky that she doesn't have to compete with Molly for Amy's love. Hope isn't entirely sure she'd win.  
  
"So, what are your intentions with her, Hope?" Molly presses, forcing her tone to be some semblance of civil. Hope notes the way Molly's jaw twitches with the effort.  
  
"I thought you were her wife, not her father," Hope snickers and this seems to break the ice a little as Molly chuckles for a moment.   
  
"I'm serious." Molly takes a sip of her wine.  
  
Hope regards Molly over the rim of her glass. She wonders what her love for Amy looks like to Molly, an outside party who has no idea. "What do you think I'm doing with Amy?" Hope questions curiously.  
  
Molly huffs derisively. "Not an optimist, remember?"  
  
"Fair." Hope pauses, considering her words carefully. "Let's just say that if Amy had decided to go to China, I would have gone to China. If she had decided that she wanted to climb Mount Everest, I would have too." Molly giggles at this, well aware of Amy's athletic prowess and Hope can't help the smile of her own. "I wanted to travel and I wanted to see Amy. Gaborone was just two birds with one stone.” Hope leaves out the part where she’d literally go to the ends of the world for Amy, that her own world spins on its axis around and for her.  
  
"Did you choose NYU because of its proximity to Columbia?" Molly asks quietly yet strangely formal.  
  
Hope has been watching Amy for a long time and by proxy, Molly as well. So, Hope knows that Molly, for the most part, operates between two voices: her lawyer voice, meant for arguments, meant to sway you and her ambassador voice, meant for research, to gather information. For as long as Hope could remember, Molly has pretty much used her lawyer voice and Hope guesses this is why she's never quite taken to Molly. But when Molly switches to a diplomatic tone, it’s because she's fishing for an honest answer without giving away her position. She uses that voice when the answer matters, like it’s one touch away from changing everything.  
  
“Hell no. That would be stupid,” Hope lies smoothly. It feels like nails across a chalkboard, lying about how she feels for Amy. But Molly for all her brilliance is also a skeptic. Past lives and one enduring love are a lot to take in. “But I won’t deny that I’m glad to be near her because I do want to be near her. I'm glad that it's possible." 

Hope's frankness, however mild, shocks Molly, whose eyes widen before finally settling on something like reluctant acceptance. Molly shakes her head and looks up at the ceiling. Molly can't know the improbability of Hope and Amy meeting in the way that they did. She can't know the sheer _miracle_ of this life, of Hope and Amy being together at all. But Hope does. Still feels the painful remnants of those other lifetimes, where she had seen Amy in passing and then never again. And Hope falls quiet, abruptly awestruck.  
  
"It may not seem like it but I actually do like you, Hope," Molly says awhile later, her eyes settling back onto Hope.  
  
"Could've fooled me," Hope mutters.  
  
"I'm just saying," Molly continues pointedly, "I know that you're good for Amy, in a sense. You're intelligent, driven, creative. But it's just that your dedication to Amy...baffles me. Because it's not born out of time the way mine was." Molly leans back against the couch and turns her head slightly to look at Hope. "I don’t understand it. Sometimes, I don’t think I ever will. So, I'm going to actively try not to question it."  
  
Hope smiles slightly, looking down at her glass. Molly Davidson isn’t often wrong; Hope can count the number of times that she has been on one hand. But Molly is wrong this time.   
  
Molly has not had lifetimes with Amy. But she has had this one. Something Hope tries not to be envious of. But in this way, Hope and Molly are the same. Both having built years with and around Amy, even if Hope has forgotten some of them. Even if Molly only gets this one life to do so. Molly is willfully, deliberately bound to Amy. Hope is willfully, inevitably so.  
  
_All roads lead to Amy,_ Hope thinks with amusement.   
  
Hope drains her glass and Molly does the same. Hope can't help but feel a bit relieved because all the tension between her and Molly seems to have subsided a little. Hope knows that even if it's temporary, it's a start. _Amy and Annabelle will be happy,_ Hope thinks proudly, and that's really all she needs in this lifetime.  
  
"If you hurt her, I will hunt you for sport and you'll never see the light of day again," Molly says after awhile, somewhat gravely. Hope lets out a short laugh even though Molly's expression doesn't change.  
  
"Yeah, I'd deserve it." Hope leans forward for the wine bottle and refills their glasses. She hands Molly her glass as she props an elbow up against the couch, leaning her head on her hand. “So, you and Annabelle?”  
  
To Hope’s surprise, Molly flushes a deep red, marking the transition from hard-ass prosecutor to timid witness.   
  
“Annabelle and I,” Molly repeats somewhat bashfully, like she can hardly believe it herself.   
  
“What are your intentions with her?” Hope mimics in a gruff voice, causing Molly to laugh lightly. “I ask because I need to be sure that you’re not like, using her to experiment or something,” Hope continues in a normal voice.  
  
Hope feels some reassurance when a look of terror flashes across Molly’s face.  
  
“Of course not,” Molly gasps. “I like Annabelle. A lot. Maybe not with your same intensity but...I want us to work out.” Molly hesitates, glancing Hope’s way. “I don’t know what I’m doing really. This is one of the first times I’ve felt out of my depth.”  
  
Hope twirls her glass in her hand slowly. “I understand.”   
  
And she does. Because Hope has gone so long without Amy, it feels almost new. She’s trying to remember how she can fit into Amy’s life without completely fucking it up. Without coming to the worst possible outcome in which Hope and Amy exist at the same time and in the same place but Amy doesn’t want anything to do with her. Hope's blood runs cold at the thought.  
  
Molly notices this and eyes her curiously before mentally dismissing it. Hope has noticed that Molly has been doing that a lot lately. It’s quite a deviation from the Molly she knew in high school, even though it’s only been a few months since they graduated. High school-Molly used to dig with singular focus, which Hope found immediately off-putting. High school-Molly used to hunt for answers to every question she did and didn’t ask, seemingly uncaring of consequences or methodology. Now, Molly still has her razor-sharp precision, stills pours her all into her academics and relationships. But now she lets answers come to her. Hope can’t help but think that Annabelle has rubbed off on her somewhat.  
  
“I just don’t wanna mess it up,” Molly says in a soft voice.  
  
“Ain’t that the motherfucking truth.” Hope smiles ruefully as she holds up her glass to Molly, who gives it a small tap with her own, grinning as she does. Hope looks at Molly over the rim of her glass. "You realize that you can't hurt her, right? Because it'll put me in the awkward position of having to kill you and leaving Amy widowed," Hope tells her.  
  
"Don't be so sanctimonious about it. I know that's just a ploy to pave the way for you to marry Amy," Molly retorts. At this, Molly dissolves into a fit of laughter and perhaps it’s the wine or perhaps it’s because Molly’s laugh is the most unrestrained that Hope's ever heard but Hope finds herself joining in. Their laughter dies down and the silence that settles between them seems a little lighter.  
  
"So, you don't think that my 'dedication to Amy', as you put it, is weird?" Hope asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"I think it's so fucking weird," Molly confesses, shaking her head like she still can't quite believe it. Then, her expression softens and Hope almost doesn't recognize her. She wonders briefly if this is the Molly that Amy, and now Annabelle, get to see all the time. "But, I think, we all secretly hope for dedication. I think we all want to be seen and valued and appreciated. And if it were up to me, the entire world would give those things to Amy. But if not yet the world, then we can start with you."  
  
Hope is silent for a beat. "It may not seem like it, but I like you too, Molly."  
  
That night doesn’t drastically change their friendship. _Is it a friendship?_ But Hope does understand Molly more now. She supposes that Amy and Annabelle will be satisfied with that for the time being. 

\---

Hope visits Molly and Annabelle again at the start of winter break. They had decided that Hope would go to New Haven so that they could all carpool back to L.A. together.  
  
Annabelle had insisted that Hope come as soon as she finished her last final. Hope is grateful that she gets to leave Thursday instead of Friday, when she knows the roads and trains will be flooded with students trying to get home for the holidays.   
  
Hope climbs up the steps to their apartment, grunting with effort of her bags. She doesn’t hear much going on inside and remembers that Annabelle and Molly both have one more final tomorrow. _We’ll probably be at the library all night so just let yourself in,_ Annabelle had said.   
  
Hope reaches for the spare key under a potted plant and does just that.  
  
It’s close to 11:00 pm and Molly and Annabelle still aren’t home yet. Hope has just finished a movie when she decides to call Amy. _She might just be up._  
  
The line clicks. “Hello?” comes Amy’s raspy voice. She clears her throat. _Or not._  
  
“Hey,” Hope greets softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”  
  
“No, no. The sound of your voice is way better to wake up to than my alarm,” Amy says. Hope blushes as she hears Amy shuffle around a bit. It’s only a couple of minutes into the call and Hope is already swooning. _Sucker,_ says a voice in her head that sounds remarkably like Annabelle.  
  
“How are Molly and Annabelle? You’re with them, yeah?” Amy asks.  
  
“Yeah, I got here a few hours ago but I haven’t seen them yet. I think they’re still at the library.”  
  
“Damn, that’s right. They both have their finals.”  
  
“Yeah. How are you, Amy?” Hope asks. Hope clutches the phone tightly against her ear. “How’s Botswana and everything?”  
  
“It’s great,” Amy answers, sighing happily. “I’m learning so much and everyone is so kind and patient.” Amy pauses. “Shelo misses you though. She keeps asking when ‘my girl’ is coming back.”  
  
The way Amy says 'my girl' slams Hope into a memory of riding on the back of a motorcycle, arms wrapped around a lover’s stomach as sheer thrill fills her own. Amy’s laugh tugs Hope gently back to the present, the scent of a leather jacket lingering in her nostrils.  
  
“And am I? Your girl?” Hope asks slyly, shyly.  
  
“I haven’t decided yet,” Amy teases and even though Hope can't see it, she knows Amy is smiling. Hope could throw something at her.  
  
“You’re just a man-eater,” Hope tells her petulantly.  
  
“You mean, woman-eater. You of all people should know that,” Amy corrects suggestively. Hope almost can't believe her ears. _Fuck._  
  
“You know you can't talk like that when we're thousands of miles apart,” Hope sputters, running a hand through her hair. "Damn, I miss you." Hope stops short, worried that she sounds too intense or too sincere. They haven't promised anything to each other, even though Hope's entire existence is promised to Amy. Hope had made it clear early on that she doesn't expect anything, out of fear of scaring Amy off. And here is Hope now, slipping up, saying sappy shit and feeling sappy shit because Amy always gets the best of her.  
  
“I miss you too, Hope,” Amy tells her, matching her tone and it sends Hope reeling.  
  
Before Hope can respond, she hears the jingle of keys in the lock and the door is thrown open by a somewhat disheveled Molly and Annabelle.  
  
Hope holds up her phone slightly. “Amy’s on the phone.”   
  
Molly brightens and immediately snatches it out of Hope’s hand. “Amy, my little pup, how are you?!”   
  
Annabelle chuckles as Hope gapes at Molly. “Did you bring me a Shake Shack shake from New York?” Annabelle asks.  
  
“There's a Shake Shack here, Annabelle."  
  
Annabelle lifts her shoulder in a half-shrug. "Question remains."  
  
"In the freezer," Hope answers, rolling her eyes. "There's one for Molly too."  
  
Annabelle's eyes light up. "Wait, really? Fuck yes, you're the best, Hope."  
  
Molly makes her way back over to them and drops the phone into Hope's hand.  
  
"Amy's about to start work. I'm off to bed," Molly says, weaving around them and the couch.  
  
"Me too. Bye, Amy," Annabelle says loudly at the phone before following Molly. Hope chuckles when she hears Molly say tiredly, "You can drink yours if you want, Annabelle. I'm going to bed."  
  
Hope holds the phone up to her ear. "Amy?"  
  
"I just wanted to say goodbye before I hung up."  
  
"Ok, goodbye and good morning. Have a good day at work. Tell Shelo I miss her too and that you're lucky to have her as a host sister," Hope says, heart clenching.  
  
Amy chuckles. "I will." She pauses. "Sleep well. Goodnight."  
  
"Amy?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Hope hesitates. "Six months isn't such a long time, right?"  
  
"Oh, baby girl, not long at all," Amy responds so tenderly that Hope has the strange sensation of trying to commit a moment to memory as it's happening. "They'll be gone before you know it. I'll see you soon."  
  
When they end the call, Hope feels as if the wind has been knocked out of her as she holds the way Amy had said 'baby girl' close to her heart, even feels it in one side of her temple and at the crook of her elbow. She knows somehow that it's one of _those_ memories. Like that of the beach, the Ferris wheel, and the leather jacket. One of those memories that will sustain her through this life and will persist through the next one and each rebirth thereafter. One of those memories that will be packaged away until just the right lightning-strike moment to bring Hope back to Amy again and again. 

\---

"I don't want to hear any Hans Zimmer shit," Annabelle warns, passing Molly the aux cord.  
  
"Excuse you, that man is a genius," Molly counters, looking genuinely offended. "He could get it."  
  
"I'm gonna stop you right there, Davidson. I was with you until I wasn't," Hope interrupts from her spot in the backseat as she makes a face. She sees Annabelle mouth 'ew' in the rearview mirror.  
  
They're halfway through their drive to L.A. and so far, it hasn't been that bad. In fact, it's been quite fun. If somebody had told sixteen-year-old Hope that she'd be carpooling with her high school friends from college and that she’d be _enjoying_ herself, she would have laughed in their faces and subsequently flipped them off. As it stands, Molly selects a song on her phone and the first few percussive beats of 'Cruel Summer' trickle out of the speakers.  
  
"Molly," Annabelle whines and Hope leans forward to peer at her in surprise.  
  
"Do you not like this song?" Hope asks.  
  
"It's not that. Molly's been playing only this album for months," Annabelle replies, sending Molly a glare. "And anyway, I like her country stuff more."  
  
"Turn it up, Molly," Hope says firmly.  
  
Molly twists in her seat to look at Hope, her brow shooting up. "You like Taylor Swift?"  
  
"Yeah, because I'm a normal fucking human being," Hope answers. She meets Annabelle's gaze briefly who scowls at her in return.  
  
"I thought you liked artists like Leonard Cohen or some other bullshit," Molly says a little dubiously.  
  
"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just say that, Ms. I-wanna-fuck-Christopher-Nolan's-boyfriend, but they're not mutually exclusive."  
  
At this, Molly breaks into a wide grin. "Let me start it over so I can send Amy a Snap," she says excitedly. Molly turns up the volume with one hand and restarts the song with the other.  
  
Hope and Molly spend the entirety of the song singing along at the top of their lungs, purposefully off-key, poking and prodding Annabelle to do the same. When she doesn't, Molly doesn't even blink as she plays it again. A look of vague horror flits across Annabelle's face and Hope can't help but laugh.  
  
Amy and Molly, and later Annabelle and Molly, used to confuse the shit out of Hope. Now, she kind of gets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. solar flare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Amy through the college years

Hope is embarrassed to admit it but she doesn’t remember kissing Amy at Nick’s party. Sure, she remembers _doing it_ , but she doesn’t recall the sensation. Not really anyway. The first thing that comes to mind when she thinks back to that night is her utter shock of _holy fuck, Amy Antsler is kissing her_. She remembers softness, she remembers wanting more. She remembers wondering where to put her hands and how low she should stoop to kiss Amy. Hope had thought for one wild moment that it was all a dream. But then Amy had kissed her again. 

Hope also remembers her rapid-fire thoughts, which were pretty much just about Amy if she were being honest: _does Amy want this? Is Amy comfortable?_ And Hope had pounced at the first hint of hesitation ( _are you okay?_ ) and had given Amy an out ( _we can stop if you want_ ). Because even as Amy was kissing her and reaching for her clothes, Hope hadn’t thought it was possible that Amy could want her.

But the rest of the time, between her thoughts, Hope just remembers Amy. Amy’s lips and her skin. Her smell especially. Amy’s normal scent is earthy and delicate, which Hope had practically memorized at that point, but it was masked somewhat by the chlorine. 

So, when Hope kisses Amy again, this time in Gaborone, it’s like the sky cracks open. Flooding her senses with this endless loop of _everything_. Everything that feels good, everything that Amy is and Hope kind of loses it, feels her brain short-circuiting. Because it’s… _overwhelming_. It’s a goddamn _feast_. Amy looks fucking gorgeous, eyes bright in the low light of her room, and her familiar scent is still as warm and light as Hope remembers, filling Hope to the brim and her hands and lips are so soft, so insistent as if made for the sole purpose of setting Hope on fire and she tastes so good, elixir-like, like Hope has never known hunger before now and she drives Hope delirious as she sighs and pants and curses Hope’s name. Holy fuck, where does Hope _begin_? 

"Your eyes are hazel," Hope tells Amy in wonder. 

They're in Amy's bed in Gaborone and even though Hope had promised herself that she wouldn't sleep with Amy her first night there, she failed miserably. Not that she minds. All bets were off the minute she stepped off the plane and spotted Amy in the airport, grinning wildly and scooping Hope into her arms. Hope knows that she should really stop making stupid promises like that anyway. 

Amy is leaning over her now, brushing a lock of hair away from Hope’s face with one hand while holding the sheet up to her chest with the other.

"Uh, yes they are," Amy confirms, bemused.

"I always thought they were green." Hope squints, and lifts her head up slightly to peer closer. She knows objectively that she has recognized them as not-green before: at Nick’s party, Amy’s Instagram photos. And yet, her mind never stored this piece of information into long-term memory. She’s a little angry at herself for it. She hasn’t seen Amy in lifetimes and she may not again after this one. She should be savoring everything about Amy, committing her to memory.

Amy chuckles and raises a brow at her, half apprehensive and half challenging. "Sorry to disappoint."

Hope scoffs, "Nothing about you is disappointing. And anyway, they’re beautiful. They remind me of honey. I’d take your picture if you’d let me."

Hope watches Amy's gaze slide away from her as a blush creeps onto her cheeks, watches, entranced, as the candle light turns Amy's eyes hazel then brown and maybe a little green? Which like, _of course_ , Amy wanted to use candle light to romance her and, of course it fucking worked. _It’s working_ , her mind amends. So, Hope bites her tongue. When Amy looks back, Hope is still watching, heart racing like it wants to attach itself entirely to Amy.

"You know, the compliments aren’t necessary. You already got me in bed," Amy jokes.

“If I remember correctly, _you_ got _me_ in bed.”

Amy looks at her then with what can only be described as a smirk, and Hope finds it downright sexy. 

“You couldn’t possibly have thought that traveling halfway across the world wasn’t going to get you laid,” Amy comments as she lays her head on Hope’s chest. 

Hope frowns, only a little distracted by the way Amy’s breath dances across her skin.

“I didn’t come here to have sex with you, not that I didn’t want to. I was in the neighborhood,” Hope tells her, halfway truthful. _If Cairo counts as ‘in the neighborhood’_. “I just wanted to see you,” she adds, now impulsively truthful.

Amy turns to look up at her then, and even in the low light, there’s something in her eyes that make them the brightest goddamn things Hope has ever seen.

“I didn’t think you came here for that,” Amy says. “Because flying to another country just to have sex is kind of stupid. And you’re not stupid. But I’m not gonna pretend that I didn’t want to sleep with you.” Amy’s smirking again, and Hope knows that that look alone would have her naked and on her back in record time if she wasn’t already. “And anyway, I really needed a redo of that night at Nick’s party because I briefly considered celibacy.”

Hope lets out a laugh, “Lucky me that you didn’t.”

“I know you probably find the entire thing laughable at best, and not to negate your experience as the obvious injured party in that, but that night was a little traumatic for me. Can you imagine trying to sleep with any girl after something like _that_?! After vomiting?!” Amy shudders before settling back into Hope’s arms as Hope chuckles. “Celibacy was an appropriate response.”

Hope honestly didn’t think it was that bad. But when she hears the memory back to her, it kind of seems like it. Not that it matters. Hope would do it all again without a second thought. Because Hope thinks that it’s her destiny to try for Amy. Even if Amy is sleeping with other women here. Hope reminds herself that they had mutually decided not to commit until Amy was back in the States. Her brain recognizes this. But every other part of her rages against it. A moment passes. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Amy states. Hope loves that Amy’s voice is sure and every part of Hope, including her brain, revels in that.

“Me too,” Hope murmurs and swallows as she wonders if Amy can hear how her heart has sped up again. Before Hope can dwell on it, she feels Amy brush her lips against the skin just under her collarbone and it helps. 

\---

“The new barista is staring at you.”

“Or you,” Hope counters without looking up from her laptop.

Amy considers this before she lets out a snort. “No, it’s definitely you.”

She falls silent again and Hope hears footsteps approaching from behind. A hand with many rings places a coffee cup in front of Amy.

“Oat milk latte?”

Hope looks up with a slight frown. “Uh, yeah.”

A girl with curly brown hair and a nose ring sets another coffee cup in front of Hope with a tentative smile. 

“The oat milk is pretty great here, you made a great choice,” the barista remarks and Hope doesn’t really know how to respond.

“Right…”

The barista’s smile doesn’t waver. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Amy interjects pleasantly and the barista ambles away. “See? I told you!” 

Hope turns to face Amy and momentarily forgets her predicament. Amy has been back from Gaborone for a few months now, but sometimes she still catches Hope off-guard, believing her to be a dream. Her hair is in a messy bun and she’s wearing her gold-rimmed glasses, and beyond all reason, Hope adores it. But then Hope smells pine trees and suddenly finds herself in the passenger side of a…Jeep, she’s pretty sure. And Amy is driving, wearing a tie-dye shirt and cut-off jean shorts, grinning over at her as the wind whips her red hair behind her. The rim of her sunglasses glinting in the sunlight. _Maybe not so unreasonable_ , Hope thinks, heart thumping.

“Why didn’t you ask for her number?” Amy presses.

Hope stares at her. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, she’s cute,” Amy says and her cheeks are pink.

Hope shuts her laptop and props her chin up in the palm of her hand. “Not my type.”

“Why?” Amy breathes out and she stiffens like she hadn’t meant to lead them here. Hope knows that they’ve stumbled into something else, that Amy is trying to ask her where they stand. Hope silently curses herself. 

Ever since she found Amy, Hope has desperately tried to hide her feelings in a never-ending game of whack-a-mole, constantly worried that her forever-memories will pour out of her against her will and effectively send Amy running for the hills. How do you casually pursue a girl when you know, _you know_ , that you are promised to her? Hope has tried so hard not to come off too strong, and she thinks that she has been pretty successful. But in doing so, in tiptoeing around Amy, Hope has failed to be direct about what she wants. 

“What do you think we’re doing, Amy?” Hope asks quietly and when Amy sighs, she knows that Amy understands what she means.

Amy bites her lip. “I don’t know.” 

It kind of stings. Hope had thought that Amy has had…inklings of clarity, that she has had brief visions of their connection. Maybe not as sharp as the ones Hope has but even just a hint of their undeniable bond to one another, an outlier of intense emotion made from lifetimes before contrasted against their very limited time together in this one. Surely Amy feels it too, even if she doesn’t recognize it. _Something, anything..._

Hope doesn’t blame her. It’s not Amy’s fault that she forgets and Hope remembers, endlessly, tirelessly. But it hurts nonetheless.

“I’m not looking for anyone else,” Hope states simply. She wants to say more but holds back. An insidious thought surfaces: that Hope had gotten it wrong, that this girl that she is wholly infatuated with is a girl cut from a different star. But she remembers Amy’s kiss from this morning that felt like 200 years old and she dismisses it. The sunlight is rushing towards Amy now, and her hair is shining and this eases Hope’s mind a little.

“I know you’re not. That’s not what I mean, I just –” Amy cuts herself off, gathering her thoughts. “We’re so young, and I know college is a big transitory period. To find new things and people and to become someone else if we so choose. I just don’t want you to feel tied down.”

“Is that what you feel? Tied down?” Hope tries to tamp down the edge in her voice because now a worse thought occurs to her: that she’d gotten this _right_ but Amy doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want her. Hope grips her arms tightly and leans them on the table.

“God no,” Amy says and Hope releases a breath at the way Amy makes the idea sound absurd. “If anything, I feel the opposite. Sometimes, what I feel for you overwhelms me.” Amy pauses, a distant look in her eyes and Hope feels a lump in her throat at the fact that she is _definitely_ not alone in this. “But statistically most relationships don’t last through college. So, I get it if you wanna…explore.” 

“I don’t. And I don’t care about statistics. Not when it comes to you.” Amy reddens and Hope feels a smile creep onto her face. “Now, is that barista looking over this way?”

She watches Amy’s eyes drift towards the counter. “Yeah.”

“You should kiss me then,” Hope says, pushing her elbows against the table as she leans towards Amy. But Amy makes no move.

“She gave you her number,” Amy observes in amusement, nodding at Hope’s coffee cup.

“All the more reason to kiss me,” Hope replies without glancing at it. Amy rolls her eyes and she leans forward and Hope actually thinks that she will. But instead, Amy reaches for her hand and presses her lips to Hope’s fingertips and Hope is shocked by how effectively endeared she is by this.

Hope walks Amy back to her dorm and gives her a quick peck on the cheek before asking Amy to be her girlfriend. Amy is only surprised for a moment.

“Yes!” Amy says, grabbing a fistful of Hope’s shirt and pulling her down to kiss her.

Sometimes, it still shocks Hope when Amy kisses her back. Because even though their destinies are written in the stars and under Hope’s tongue, for Amy, it’s still an act of faith. Hope is immensely moved by that.

\---

Amy spends a lot of her time at Hope’s apartment during her second semester of college. Hope wonders when it’s an appropriate time to ask Amy to move in with her, but sets it aside for now when Amy asks Hope to read to her as they settle into bed. Hope makes a face.

“Are you sure? I’m reading for class, it’s _Great Expectations_.”

“I just like the sound of your voice.”

And the way Amy sounds so unapologetic makes Hope swoon. Hope has only read aloud to Amy a handful of times, mostly just quotes from things that she’s liked. She’s never read her to sleep before but Amy wants it. Amy looks at her eagerly. Hope knows that she was not put on this Earth to deny her. And so, she starts.

After about fifteen minutes, Hope feels Amy’s breathing slow and steady against her thigh as Hope runs a hand through Amy’s hair. She stops in her reading to peek at Amy’s face, sees that her eyes are closed. Hope is reaching over to shut off the lamp when Amy speaks.

“You should read that next part.”

Hope continues without hesitation.

“‘You will get me out of your thoughts in a week.’" Hope recites. "‘Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here – ‘“

Hope falters at the heavy truth of saying words like these to Amy, even if they aren’t her own. An uneasy thought occurs to her: that Amy _knows_ , that she’d somehow managed to wrangle it out of Annabelle without her knowledge. _Impossible_.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Hope?” Amy asks after a moment, voice somewhat heavy. 

They are venturing into dangerous territory. Hope’s hands are clammy by this point. Hope and Amy haven’t been together for very long, but she knows that she’s not ready. Hope isn’t sure if she means Amy or herself. But she is sure of one thing, telling Amy the truth would be bad. But lying to her would be worse.

“Yes.” Hope answers like she’s diffusing a bomb. When Amy doesn’t respond, Hope thinks she’s in the clear for now and continues. “Other people seem to believe in it too. What did I read the other day? ‘I would find you in any lifetime.’”

Hope watches Amy’s face closely, wonders if something deep inside her will register the weight of it. Half-dreads and half-wishes, desperately, that Amy recognizes the absolute truth of it. Amy just hums against her but this doesn’t bother Hope. Amy will know soon enough. It’s only a matter of when.

“Who said that?”

“Kanye West.”

Amy snorts. “I thought it was gonna be like, Sophocles or something.”

“You knew it wasn’t Sophocles.”

“Ok, well, maybe Mary Oliver.”

“Well, I guess you’re lucky to be dating someone as cultured me.”

Amy bites playfully at her thigh and Hope really tries not to let that lead them away from sleep. But, of course, it does.

\---

At the beginning of Hope’s junior year and Amy’s sophomore year, Hope helps Amy move into her apartment. That she is sharing with two other roommates. None of which are Hope. Hope doesn’t really know what to make of this because on the one hand, they’ve only officially been together for a year or so. But on the other hand, shit, Hope’s ready.

Hope had called Annabelle about it a few days earlier, bewildered. 

“It’s because your slow ass was too slow to ask her,” Annabelle had told her. “Did I mention that you’re slow?”

Hope had almost hung up on her. 

“Some advice would be helpful, Annabelle. Like does this mean that she doesn’t see us as a permanent thing? Or was she just waiting on me to ask her?” Hope had stopped short. “Or does she think she can’t live with me because I’m too gross or something? Oh God, what if she thinks we’re just casual?” Hope had dragged a hand across her face.

“Your monologue-ing has become truly Shakespearean, Hope,” Annabelle had replied when she’d finished. “Why are you acting so weird about it? So you didn’t ask her to move in with you. So what? Ask her about it if you want. None of it will change anything. Because the bottom line is it's still you and Amy. It’s always gonna be you and Amy.”

Hope had sat with that for awhile. “Thanks for reminding me why I keep you around.”

“Any time,” Annabelle had chirped, unfazed. “Don’t panic and don’t be weird. I’ll text you later, ok?”

So. Hope helps Amy move in. It takes the entire day but it’s kind of nice. Amy blasts music as they work and the time passes quickly. Amy has a ton of pictures of her parents, of Molly, of Hope, and even a few baby pictures. Hope surreptitiously takes photos of these with her phone. 

“Can I ask you something?” Hope says before she loses her nerve. They’ve finally finished and they’re resting in Amy’s bed. Hope looks sideways at her.

“Shoot.”

“Would you have said yes if I asked you to move in with me before you signed your lease?”

Amy eyes her nervously. “I would have wanted to but I don’t think I would have. But,” Amy emphasizes hurriedly upon seeing Hope’s expression, “it’s because I kind of want to go fast with you. Too fast. It’s like every part of me just wants to rush out to you and I don’t get that. So, I’m deliberately trying to go slow.” Amy chuckles. “I think, sometimes, I’d give you anything if you asked for it. Am I making sense?”

Hope understands perfectly. It’s comforting and utterly sweet knowing that Amy has to hold back too.

“I get it. Really, no worries.” Hope moves forward to press her lips to Amy’s hairline to show she means it. “When are your roommates coming again?”

“In a couple of days.”

Hope nods. “I see.”

A pause.

“Was that it?”

“Were you expecting something more?” Hope asks innocently.

Amy rolls her eyes and tosses a pillow at Hope. “Please just kiss me. Don’t make me beg.”

“That’d be kinda hot.” Hope laughs at Amy’s withering stare. She rolls onto her side and pulls Amy closer then brings her lips to hers, Amy’s hands moving to undo her belt.

Many hours later, Hope hears a grunt as Amy doesn't quite clear the corner from the bathroom back to her bed. Hope rolls over to look at her, and Amy gives her a lazy grin, the morning sunlight streaming resolutely across her face. 

And Hope freezes.

Her heart is everywhere. In her chest, in her throat, in her ears. The tips of her fingers. And suddenly, Hope hears the creak of a ship, calm waves against the wood. Sees Amy's eyes next to her with inky black hair stark amongst a cloud of sheets, her lips pulling into that same lazy grin. The memory lasts only a breath of a moment, so quick that before Amy even begins to react to Hope's shift in mood – _in lives_ – Hope's groping for her camera at her bedside, holds it up to her eye, and presses the shutter button.

"Hope!" Amy exclaims and Hope lowers the camera slowly. Heart still in her chest, in her throat, in her ears. The tips of her fingers.

"You look good in my clothes. I couldn’t resist," Hope says simply before she can stop herself. 

Amy flushes and Hope loves it, the way it looks against the light of the sun. Hope's hand twitches around her camera. But then Amy strides over and bends down to kiss her, quite literally taking her breath away. When Amy pulls away, she gently pries the camera out of Hope's hand, setting it back on the table, before nudging Hope aside and climbing into bed.

"Ten more minutes, yeah?" Amy murmurs, wrapping an arm around Hope's waist and pressing her lips against Hope's shoulder.

And even though Hope is buzzing with energy, she says "yeah" as she feels Amy sigh against her. Hope takes Amy's hand to brush her lips across Amy's knuckles as she stares absently at the New York sunlight, now spilling across the floor, crawling up the wall. The light seems to dislodge something in her memory, something that Annabelle had said.

 _Did you know there's something in medicine called the golden hour?_ Annabelle had asked. 

They had been looking at one of Hope's pieces: a picture of Amy, Molly, and Annabelle. Their backs are to the camera, arms wrapped around each other as they look out through the open patio of Molly and Annabelle's apartment in New Haven, and they're so drenched in sunlight that Hope's professor had thought that she'd used yellow tinted lenses at first glance. Hope remembers the way her breath had gotten stuck in her throat, the itch in her palms when she'd looked up from her book to find them that way. She's still grateful that her bag was nearby. 

_It's when someone suffers traumatic injuries and is practically an inch from death, but there's this sweet spot in time, an hour they say, after they've sustained those injuries in which they can be saved_ , Annabelle had continued, now an almost wistful note to her tone.

 _That's really cool_ , Hope had said. Hope hadn't quite known why Annabelle was telling her this, but something had shifted around them and Hope knew it was significant. 

Annabelle had given her a knowing smile then, had flicked back to the previous picture of Amy, who was caught half-turned toward the camera, still in the same setting, in the same sunlight.

 _This life with Amy is your golden hour, isn't it?_ Annabelle had said and Hope felt as if she had been submerged in water by the truth of Annabelle's words. 

Hope had thought about how her photography gravitates to that golden hour, when the light is perfect. Where everything is yellow and soft and warm, how those feelings compound exponentially when Amy was around. Hope had also remembered the exact moment when something in her had awakened at their first contact, finally, long dead after centuries without Amy. Remembered describing that feeling to Annabelle as a part her soul being snatched back from the ferryman and attaching itself doggedly, securely to Amy. 

_I guess so_ , Hope had whispered as tears had filled her eyes.

There are tears in her eyes now and she subconsciously tightens her hold on Amy, who hums against the nape of her neck but otherwise doesn't wake.

Hope wants this everywhere. Hope wants this all the time.

\---

They’re twenty-one and at a club of all places. Amy’s friends wanted to go out to a specific club and Hope’s friends were already out at said club, so they plan to meet both sets of friends there. Amy laughs when she tells Hope this, who smiles in return. Hope loves how the world can be small like that.

Amy’s just finished a test and it’s the weekend, so she lets loose. One of Hope’s friends nudges Hope, gesturing to a drink in his hand but she shakes her head, holding up her own half-finished beer. He shrugs and takes a large gulp. And Hope watches in amusement as Amy’s friends hand Amy a shot. Then Hope’s friends hand her a second. Amy takes them back like a champ, despite the face she makes afterward, and continues dancing.

Hope is staring now. Because Amy’s kind of fucking perfect in this moment, all pure elation and adrenaline. And not worrying and planning. Amy grins languidly and waves Hope over to her, who shakes her head slightly as she obeys.

When she’s close enough, Amy wraps an arm around Hope’s neck and stands on her toes to whisper in Hope’s ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, I have no idea how I ended up with you.”

The words barely register in Hope’s head because the way Amy’s breath feels against her skin tilts her world on its axis and pits her into a different century and, despite the warm bodies all around them, Hope is freezing. Hope closes her eyes briefly and the light is a cool blue on the backs of her eyelids because it’s nighttime and there’s snow everywhere? And Amy is standing in front of her, wrapped head to toe in thick winter clothing, save for her vibrant green eyes. Amy’s so close to her that Hope sees the way her eyes crinkle at the corners, feels her breath against her face when Amy chuckles. 

Hope is sucked back to the present as the cool lights pulse around them, casting deep shadows across Amy’s face. _Ethereal_ , Hope thinks, mesmerized. She makes a mental note to experiment with that blue hour the next time she wants to shoot Amy. Amy speaks again, breath still at her ear.

“So beautiful,” Amy echoes, placing a hot kiss at the point of Hope’s jaw. Hope pulls away slightly. 

“Hmm, let’s get you some water,” she suggests, Amy’s kiss still searing her skin.

Hope spots a booth where a couple of Amy’s friends, whose names she’s already forgotten, are sitting very closely. Hope guides Amy to the booth, stopping at the bar to ask for a glass of water. Amy kind of plops down and leans back against the seat as Hope slides in next to her. Hope sticks a straw in the glass of water before holding it out to Amy.

“Water, Amy.”

Amy drinks from it obediently and Hope is silently grateful that Amy is not a defiant drunk.

“Thank you. I love you so much. I’m going to marry you so hard,” Amy gushes. Amy’s friends, sitting across from them, untangle themselves from each other to gape at them.

“Wait, no. We’re not – we’re not getting married –” Hope starts hastily.

“Aw, why not? You don’t want to?” Amy asks and she looks so dismayed, Hope regrets it instantly, wishes she could pluck them right out of the air. But then Amy’s eyes are wide with realization. “Is it because you don’t believe in the institution?”

Amy’s friends giggle and Hope fights a smile because it is kind of funny.

“Well, Amy –” And Amy’s watching her patiently as her lips try to find the straw. Hope cuts herself off with a laugh as she reaches over to hold it steady with one hand while the other supports Amy’s that’s still holding the glass. It’s strangely intimate. So much so that Hope experiences an almost palpable spark at their touch and she knows that this moment is etching itself into her forever-memories. Hope swallows at the sudden lump in her throat.

They end up at one of Amy’s friend’s apartment, along with a couple of Hope’s friends, after last call. There are just enough rooms for everyone to have their own room with their respective people because the place is goddamn huge. _Who the fuck are Amy’s friends?_ Hope thinks, glancing around in awe, her arm around Amy’s waist. 

Hope is making their way to a room but decides to go for a bathroom first. She finds one easily and pushes Amy gently inside.

“Go pee,” Hope instructs, turning around to face the door. She hears Amy stumble a bit behind her.

“What if I don’t need to?” Amy mumbles. “I’m so tired.”

“You need to. We’ll sleep right after, I promise.”

She hears Amy flush and turn on the water to wash her hands. Hope turns back to find Amy much closer than she expected. Amy tilts her head slightly at Hope, lips pulling into a half grin before Amy backs her against the door and presses her lips to Hope’s. Amy shouldn’t be good at kissing in her drunken state. But she is, and Hope can only helplessly respond. 

“I thought you were tired,” Hope remarks somewhat breathlessly when they pull away.

“Never too tired for you.” Amy yawns. Hope rolls her eyes a little.

“Alright, Casanova.” Hope pauses. “We always end up kissing in bathrooms, huh?” 

Amy looks around as if just realizing where they are and groans. “Am I just doomed to repeat the past?”

 _If only you knew_ , Hope thinks with a wry laugh. She takes Amy’s hand and finds an empty room for them. Hope sits Amy delicately on the bed before standing to lock the door, setting her wallet, phone, and keys on the bedside table. She turns back to find Amy curled on her side with her eyes closed, hugging a pillow.

“Amy?”

Amy’s brow furrows a bit. “So sleepy. You promised,” she whines without opening her eyes.

Hope bites back a laugh. She thinks about how she should be a little annoyed but she’s not. Because even like this, Amy’s adorable. _And she’s going to have a raging headache in the morning_ , Hope thinks sympathetically. Hope kneels in front of Amy and sets about taking off her shoes. Hope then moves to unbuckle Amy’s fanny pack. Amy doesn’t stir at all.

Curious, Hope unzips the fanny pack and finds a bottle of hand sanitizer, her wallet and keys, a couple pills of aspirin, her phone, and even a charger for said phone.

“Amy, you’re so fucking brilliant,” Hope says under her breath. She sees that Amy’s phone is at eight percent, so she quickly hooks it up to the charger. By the time Hope is settling into bed next to Amy, Hope is exhausted. When she slips an arm around Amy’s waist, Amy’s scent relaxes Hope into sleep. 

\---

Hope pulls her phone out of her backpack as she’s stepping out of her class. She sees a single text from Amy and decides to call her. Amy picks up on the second ring.

“You’re done?” Amy asks excitedly. Hope can almost imagine Amy sitting on their couch, grinning with anticipation. 

“Yeah, I’m done,” Hope replies, and she can’t help the smile of her own.

“That was your last midterm ever! Are you excited?” Amy asks. “Actually, just tell me when you get home. We are going to celebrate!”

Amy’s mood is infectious and Hope is full on grinning now.

“Ok, I’ll see you soon.”

When Hope gets to the apartment, Amy is in the kitchen, throwing snacks into a backpack. She stops immediately when she hears Hope and rushes to her, practically tackles Hope to the ground as she throws herself into Hope’s arms.

“Ooof!”

“I’m so proud of you, Hope,” Amy says into her chest. “You’re in the home stretch.” Hope automatically wraps an arm around Amy’s shoulders.

“It’s just midterms, I’m doing this college thing just like everyone else.”

Amy pulls back slightly and takes Hope’s chin in one hand, forcing Hope to look down at her.

“No. Not everyone gets to go to college. Not everyone does well. Not everyone is this close. You’re in college, you’re doing it well, and you’re so close. And I’m so proud of you. It is something to celebrate, so that’s what we’re going to do,” Amy tells her and her eyes gleaming. Hope looks away for moment, overcome by Amy’s intensity. Amy draws her gaze back by pecking her lips.

“Fine,” Hope concedes. “How are we gonna celebrate?”

Hope tries to sound casual, she really tries. But her gaze drifts to Amy’s lips and she can’t deny how she just flat out _wants_ her. Wants her on her back, hair splayed across the pillows, bunching up the sheets beneath her hands as Hope goes down on her. Hope attributes this to the fact that she hasn’t seen, much less touched, Amy for literal decades. And that both of their midterms have kept them frustratingly apart for a good month in this lifetime. It is _not_ the fact that Amy’s body seems to meet hers in all the right places all the time. Especially now. _Just trying to make up for lost time_ , Hope reasons. 

Amy watches Hope’s face with amusement before flicking her on the shoulder.

“We’re going to Coney Island,” Amy says happily, stepping out of Hope’s arms as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

Hope makes a face as she follows her. “Why?”

Amy shoots her a mysterious smile. “Just bring your camera.”

“Why? It’s not like I’m gonna be able to take your nudes or anything else important,” Hope mumbles.

Hope spots the camera on the other side of the room, crossing quickly and hefting it into her hand as she looks around for its case, almost misses Amy’s thoughtful reply.

“Maybe later tonight.”

Hope just barely stops herself from dropping it. “What?!”

They get to Coney Island in about an hour. They do all the tourist shit, because why the fuck not? And also because, despite her four years here, Hope has never actually been to Coney Island before. Hope is tugged along to the Boardwalk, to the Carousell. Even lets herself be dragged to that stupid Thunderbolt. Which seems less stupid when Hope notices the way Amy beams with joy. They share a scoop of pink gelato afterwards, strawberry to Hope’s delight. 

“The way that they make gelato ensures that there are less air bubbles in it, unlike American ice cream. So, it’s quite dense. And, anyway, it’s just better,” Amy informs her. She takes a bite and sucks on her spoon absently, putting Hope in the odd position of being envious of a piece of cutlery.

They finally settle on a spot near the pier. Hope watches as Amy whips out a blanket from the backpack and spreads it out before them.

“A picnic?” Hope asks in surprise. Amy grins over at her as she sits on the blanket and pats the space beside her. Hope joins her and Amy continues unpacking the backpack, pulling out a Tupperware of their leftover pizza. Amy catches her staring and gives her a sheepish smile.

“I would have made something but I was worried that it would go bad since we were going to be walking around and I did want to finish up the leftovers –” Amy tries to explain.

“It’s perfect, Amy. Thank you,” Hope interrupts and she hopes Amy can hear her sincerity. It seems that she does as she ducks her head slightly with a small smile. She reaches her hand into the backpack once more and pulls out a single sunflower with a stunted stem. Amy holds it out to her, barely looking Hope in the eye as she does so.

“You trying to woo me, Antsler?” Hope quips, even though she’s entirely enamored. Hope takes it gently, feels the familiarity of a past memory surge between them as Amy’s fingertips brush hers.

“I just liked it,” Amy murmurs as if she can’t quite explain it herself and Hope swears Amy had felt that familiar tug in the back of her mind when she’d spotted the sunflower, one of their _before_ memories making itself known to her. “It made me think of you. And I wanted to commemorate, in a small way, the end of your midterms,” Amy adds as an afterthought. Hope doesn’t know what to say, just feels everything stirring within her, a blush blooming across her cheeks. Which is a rare thing for Hope. When Amy notices, her smile is a little boastful. Hope sticks the flower behind her ear just to distract herself but it doesn’t escape her notice that Amy’s jaw slackens.

“It’s stupid how good you look all the time,” Amy mutters, opening the Tupperware.

Hope stares at her for a moment. She wants to kiss her _so bad_ but they never really do that in public if they can help it. Hope settles for reaching over and tucking a strand of hair behind Amy’s ear, fingertips lingering at Amy’s jaw.

“I think that about you constantly,” Hope confesses.

Before Amy can respond, fireworks burst over the pier and Hope jumps at the sound.

“There are fireworks here?” Hope asks, her surprise turning into delight as more break the sky.

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Amy asks, pleased by the look on Hope’s face. Amy takes a bite of the pizza. She offers the Tupperware to Hope who shakes her head as she reaches for her camera.

Hope goes a little crazy with the pictures. There’s so many of the fireworks, of Amy, of Amy with the fireworks. Even one of Amy with the sunflower which is Hope’s particular favorite. This timeline, this moment, with Amy must be the most perfect one she’s ever had with her. Hope wants to remember every second of it.

\---

"Hope. Hope!"

Hope jerks awake and blinks bleary eyes at Amy, the yellow light of the lamp casting deep shadows across her face. 

"Amy?" Hope croaks. "Finally. Missed you. I –” Hope stops short, finally taking Amy in. "You look beautiful."

She's wearing this incredible creamy pink evening dress with an illusion neckline of white flowers that creep across the breast and abdomen, the sleeves coming down just past her elbows. Amy had obviously sent her pictures. But Hope realizes now that they hadn’t quite done her justice.

Amy wrinkles her nose as if in confusion, despite the blush making its way across her cheeks. But these pass quickly as she frowns, and her expression is grave. Hope feels her heart rate spike, and suddenly she's fully awake.

"Something happened."

"What? Are you okay?" Hope asks, alarmed as she scans Amy's body quickly. 

It's then that the scent of alcohol knocks into Hope.

"I'm fine." Amy falters. "You remember Claire from work?"

Amy was hired on at the nonprofit, where she interned her last semester, as soon as she graduated from college. No one was surprised by this except for Amy. Hope remembers Claire vaguely as the one who Amy has been working with to write some grant proposal drafts for the organization.

"Yes," Hope answers slowly, dread turning her stomach to ice. 

"She tried to kiss me. But she missed, thank God. I guess she got swept up into the moment when we reached our donation goal," Amy says in a rush. "But still, I should have been more aware – “

"Amy, hang on a sec, so you didn't kiss her?" Hope asks more than a little confused.

"No,” Amy confirms, shaking her head emphatically.

A moment passes between them and Hope kind of wants to leave it at that. But she can’t. Because Hope has to know whether she has to rearrange her life to be whatever Amy wants. Especially if Amy wants something – _someone_ –else. Hope can’t fault her for it if she does. The moon doesn’t fault the Earth for loving the sun, right?

"Did you want to?" Hope says softly. She picks at the comforter with restless hands.

"Of course not," Amy replies immediately, as softly. She reaches out to Hope, cupping Hope’s cheek. Hope closes her eyes briefly at her touch, letting out a breath. The warmth from Amy’s hand seems to spread everywhere. "I'm sorry," Amy says in a voice so small that Hope pushes herself into a sitting position as she pulls slightly at Amy's dress, drawing her closer.

"I'm not entirely sure what you're sorry for," Hope admits, a smile ghosting her lips, relief flooding her gut.

"I almost kissed someone!" Amy whispers, horrified. “I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. I should have been more careful.”

"She almost kissed you," Hope reminds her. "And it's not like you wanted it. That’s all that matters to me.” Amy kind of pauses for a second and looks at Hope, tilting her head slightly. “What?”

“How are you so cool with this?”

Hope almost tells her then, in the low light of the room they share. But instead she shrugs. “As long as you still want me, I don’t really care about anything else. It’s only ever been about you.” A pause as the smell of alcohol wafts up to Hope again. “Maybe next time slow up on the alcohol? You reek."

Amy frowns, baffled. "I didn't drink a lot. I had two glasses of wine." She pauses, thinking before clicking her tongue against her teeth as her brow smooths in realization. "Fucking Claire spilled her drink on me just as we were getting into the Lyft."

Amy bends down towards her neckline, taking a tentative sniff before jolting back in disgust. And before Hope knows it, Amy reaches up to undo the button at the nape of her neck and yanks the dress off, letting the dress pool at her feet. She steps out of it, standing in front Hope in just her bra and underwear. The dress is stunning. And Hope knows it’s cheesy but she thinks it looks better on the floor anyway. Hope licks her lips but doesn't dare take her eyes off Amy.

"So, you reached your fundraising goal?" Hope questions innocently. Her hands are restless again. She doesn’t know what to do with them, only knows that she wants them all over Amy.

"Yep, over twenty grand," Amy replies proudly. She moves towards the dresser but Hope stops her with heavy-lidded eyes.

"So, we have something to celebrate," Hope murmurs. She slides her arms up and around Amy's back, presses a slow kiss to the base of her throat.

"I suppose we do," Amy replies in that low voice that Hope loves. 

Hope leans back a little to look up at her, and Amy’s smirking at her again, just like she had in Gaborone so many years ago. _Shit. Fuck. Shit and fuck._ Hope kisses her again, this time at her pulse point as Amy wraps her arms around Hope's shoulders.

Amy gives in and leans down to kiss her lips. That’s all it takes really. Hope tries not to break the kiss as she slides back against the bed, pulling Amy on top of her by the back of her thigh. They tug each other's clothes off hastily.

"No underwear?" Amy questions breathlessly when she pulls off Hope's sleeping shorts.

"Didn't want to waste your time," Hope replies. Amy kisses her hard. "Also, it's good for my vaginal health," Hope adds when Amy pulls away. Hope blinks, appalled. _What the hell?_ Why would she _say_ that?

But Amy just straightens as a short laugh escapes her. “Love your dirty talk. I'm so turned on right now.” And Hope can't say for sure that she's joking. But then Amy kisses her again, coaxing her legs open and Hope really doesn’t care. When Amy slips her tongue into Hope’s mouth, Hope tries not to moan. But Amy can tell. She deepens the kiss and what little resolve Hope has, disintegrates as she groans. She feels Amy’s smug smile against her lips. 

“I thought we were celebrating you?” Hope asks, gasping as Amy rubs her thumb across her nipple and makes her way painstakingly lower.

“But you look so good under me.” _Shit._ “And I really just want to make you feel good right now.” _Fuck._ Amy drops hot, wet kisses to Hope’s inner thighs and Hope takes her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from begging. Which lasts all of two seconds.

“Amy…” Hope sighs, her breaths coming out short and shallow.

“How could you think that I’d want anyone but you?” Amy murmurs, glancing at her briefly with dark, dark eyes. _Shit and fuck._

Maybe Hope does have to work on her dirty talk. Then Amy’s inside her and Hope thinks about nothing else.

\---

Hope insists on taking Amy to work the following day.

“Hope, come on, it’s out of your way to work,” Amy says as they’re walking to the subway. “You’re going to be late.”

Hope shrugs. “I’ll swing by and get some coffee for everyone to make up for it.” Hope catches sight of Amy’s face and grabs Amy’s fretful hands, playful smile on her lips. “I just wanna meet my competition.”

“It’s literally not a competition. If anything, they wonder what you’re doing with _me._ You’re out of my league,” Amy mutters, pulling Hope through the crowd.

Hope stops in her tracks, only half registers the way Amy looks back at her in confusion as Amy squeezes her hand. She hadn’t actually planned on going with Amy. _Looks like plans have changed_ , Hope thinks. The anger coils in her gut, snake-like.

“Hope?”

“Are people saying that at work?” Hope demands.

“Hope, what – “

“Are people saying that I’m out of your league?”

Amy doesn’t respond as she releases her hand from Hope’s. They start walking again and make it just before the doors of the subway close to whisk them away. Hope decides to be a little truthful because she’ll be _damned_ if anyone out there were to make Amy feel lesser than. Especially concerning her relationship with Hope. It’s laughable that anyone would ever think Amy is the one tied to Hope, and not the other way around. Hope waits for Amy to grab the handrail before leaning down to whisper in her ear.

“Out of your league,” Hope repeats derisively. “Don’t they know I’ve been trying to win you over for years? The first time I laid eyes on you, I was yours. I love you more than they could know.” She straightens and notes victoriously how the tips of Amy’s ears redden. Hope moves closer to her almost protectively. This is one of the few moments where Hope enjoys being tall.

“Now, when we get there, would you please introduce me to _those_ coworkers?”

Hope spots her almost immediately, same blonde hair and tan skin like she surfs all the time, just like in her Instagram pictures that Amy had reluctantly showed her the night before. Hope sneaks looks at her from her periphery as they walk to Amy’s office. She has an easy smile and blue eyes that people seem to gravitate towards. Even has a stupid dimple. Hope tries not to hate her.

She swivels in her chair and flashes white teeth at Amy.

“Morning, Amy!” 

“Good morning, Claire. This is my girlfriend, Hope. Hope, this is Claire.” Amy says. Hope can hear the tightness in her voice, but it goes over Claire’s head as she moves to stand.

“So, you’re the infamous Hope, Amy talks about you all the time.” Claire grins and sticks out her hand to Hope, who gives it a terse shake. _Probably for the best that she doesn’t remember_ , Hope thinks, although she can’t say that she isn’t a little disappointed.

“Is that so?” Hope quirks an eyebrow as she glances at Amy who raises her brow almost imperceptibly, arms folded. Hope gets the message loud and clear: _behave._ Hope gives her a sweet half-grin: _we’ll see._

By this time, others have come up, eying Hope curiously and the words _out of my league_ rattle around in Hope’s head. _Ridiculous_ , Hope seethes silently. _She_ knows what Amy is to her. Amy’s had Hope wrapped around her finger since high school, after all. How is that not immediately obvious?

“Hope, this is Jim, Rob, and Ruth. Guys, this is my girlfriend,” Amy introduces politely. Hope almost laughs at how unenthusiastic she sounds. Again, no one else seems to notice.

“It’s so nice to meet you all,” Hope says graciously after a chorus of hellos. “Amy told me that you guys met your fundraising goal last night, that’s amazing. Congratulations.”

“Well, we couldn’t have done it without Amy, she’s a mastermind. She planned it, organized it. Even gave a speech. Everyone loved her,” Claire gushes, smiling broadly. Hope knows logically that Claire is just being nice. Maybe it’s the way she eyes Amy or maybe it’s that stupid fucking dimple, but a switch seems to go off in Hope, and she feels a little less logical.

“She’s brilliant. The light of my life,” Hope admits, looking at Amy with glittering eyes. Hope would have stopped there, neither she nor Amy are the lovey-dovey type. But then Amy blinks at her, and her fingers, which had been wringing themselves over and over, finally still. _Wrapped around her finger…_ And this gives Hope an idea as she turns to her fully. “I’ll come by after work, darling? Then we’ll grab dinner?”

Amy’s lips part a little and she looks sideways in confusion, reminding Hope of their high school days. Hope sends her a simpering smile.

“We’re going to dinner?” Amy asks slowly, deliberately ignoring the ‘darling’ part. Amy is making this much too easy for Hope. She can’t resist even if she tried. Hope clicks her tongue against her teeth.

“Of course, my love. And we’re gonna go to your favorite dessert place afterwards.”

Amy’s brow furrows, looking at Hope strangely. “The one you vowed never to go back to because the owner’s son kept trying to serenade me?”

“I mean, in retrospect, can I really blame him, dearest?”

“So, we’re going to dinner and then dessert?” Amy questions. Hope thinks it’s cute how she’s so, so confused. Out of the corner of her eye, Hope notices Claire shift abruptly. Hope decides to lay it on thick.

“Honey, baby, sweetheart, we made plans to celebrate. Don’t you remember?” Hope turns to Amy’s coworkers, shaking her head good-naturedly. “This one, she can organize an event in four weeks but ask her to remember a dinner date, and it’s like I’m speaking Mandarin.”

They laugh loudly, and Hope actively tries not to roll her eyes because _of course_ they don’t know that Amy is fluent. _Office culture is fucking so weird_ , she thinks. She sees Amy looking at her with a thinly veiled expression of deep-seated confusion. Or maybe concern for Hope’s sanity? Hope fights to keep a straight face. Hope wishes she had her camera with her. She makes a mental note to reenact this for Molly and Annabelle, almost sure that Amy will have the same look on her face when she does. Claire, Hope notices, is looking down at her shoes. _Good_ , Hope thinks selfishly. 

_Cruel_ , a voice says in her head, sounding too much like Amy’s. But for some reason, it reminds her of high school Amy. In the bathroom of that fateful night. Hope does feel a little bad but mostly she just feels so, so grateful. They’ve come so far since then.

Hope almost goes in to give Amy a kiss but decides against it at the last minute. Hope can get away with exaggerated pet names, but even now, she and Amy feel the same way about PDA.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to work," Hope says before turning to Amy. "I’ll pick you up later. I’ll miss you, beloved.” Hope silently congratulates herself on that one. For good measure, Hope blows a kiss to Amy and Hope isn’t sure whether it’s this action or her use of ‘beloved’ that finally causes Amy’s expression to crack into one of realization. Hope watches Amy blink rapidly and mouth ‘what the fuck’ and Hope whips around to keep from laughing as she walks away.

She gets a text from Amy before she even steps out of the building.

_what the fuck? “darling? honey? BELOVED?!” my coworkers want to know how i got you so whipped_

_idk what they’re talking about, i don’t dote on you enough. tell them YOU’RE out of MY league._ Hope pauses to think for a moment. _tell them it’s the sex._ Hope grins when the typing bubble comes up instantly. _hey what’s your office building’s address?_

_why?_

Hope smothers another grin. _maybe i want to send my girlfriend flowers…_

Amy’s reply comes a second later. _NO._ Then _you made your point._

Hope sends a single text before stuffing it into her pocket: _i’m in love. sue me_

Hope doesn’t wait for Amy’s reply because it’s true. It’s so fucking true. Hope didn’t think she could be this happy. She’s so happy that the memories where she hadn’t found Amy before are getting harder and harder to recall. Hope spots a flower stand as she rounds a corner. Maybe she’ll pick some up later after all. Of course, they’ll have to be sunflowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that took a hot minute, didn't it? we're just out here trying. thank you for reading as always.


	4. ordinary miracles pt. 1

"What the fuck is on your neck?"

"What?" Hope stiffens and slaps a hand to the side of her neck.

Amy is on the couch, reading a book, and Hope is perched on the floor in front of her, typing away on her laptop. Hope's hair is in a relatively low bun, and there are a smattering of short, black lines and spots at the nape of her neck. Amy realizes a moment later that these are likely due to the pen that Hope has currently shoved into her bun. Amy lays the book on her knee and leans forward to push Hope's hair away as she peers closer.

"Is it a bug?" Hope asks, her voice an octave higher than normal.

Amy laughs lightly, "No. Sorry, it's just some pen marks. You really need to cap your pens, babe."

Unthinkingly, Amy brushes a thumb across the marks gently. And it's one of the _strangest_ sensations Amy has ever had. For some incomprehensible reason, an image of Hope in a yellow wool jacket, white t-shirt underneath, with block letters scrawled across her throat flash across Amy's mind. Amy withdraws her hand quickly, and when her book falls with a thud to the floor, the image is already slipping away. Much like a dream after she's just woken up. 

But Hope whirls around to look up at her with wide eyes, hand flying to her neck again. Her fingers, subconsciously draw a path just across the midline of her throat. And Amy stares at this movement. What does that remind her of? Why does that look so _familiar_?

"Amy...?"

Whatever reverie Amy had been under dissipates at the sound of Hope's voice. Amy's gaze slides a little reluctantly up to Hope's eyes.

Amy shakes her head slightly. "Sorry, was my hand too cold?"

Hope stares at her for a moment, and there’s a tension in her shoulders, lips, and brow. Amy gets the impression that Hope is using all of her power to keep still. Like she’s holding her breath and waiting for Amy…for what, Amy doesn’t know. But Amy is left with the feeling of the moment after you’ve walked into a room and you’ve forgotten why you went there in the first place.

But then Hope’s lips pull in a slow half-smile that reaches her eyes and it’s like the sun breaking through, collapsing a dream. Amy calls it her heart-breaker smile, because it's always filled with such tenderness and adoration, and it never fails to make Amy's heart stop for a millisecond longer than normal. Amy hasn’t told Hope any of this. She doesn’t think Hope needs to know _all_ the ways in which Amy is unable to resist her.

Hope shakes her head, smile still in place, "No."

She leans over and picks up Amy’s book, holding it up to her. As Amy takes it, Hope grabs Amy’s other hand and, before she knows what’s happening, Hope presses a slow kiss to the Amy’s palm, lets her lips linger there before placing another kiss on the inside of Amy’s wrist just as slowly. Amy can’t even begin to wonder how in the world Hope knows about this particularly sensitive spot of hers. 

Hope turns to look up at her again. The tenderness and adoration are still there. But now, there’s also a hint of longing in Hope’s eyes that Amy doesn’t really understand. Like she’s missing Amy even though she’s sitting right in front of her.

But then Hope’s turning away, back to her laptop, and Amy goes back to her book. But she’s distracted, as if trying to recall a dream.

\---

Hope hates the cold. Which Amy finds entirely amusing.

“Hope, you’ve lived in New York for six years, you’re not be used to it by now?” Amy asks with a grin.

They’re sitting in their living room with Molly and Annabelle, who’ve just arrived from New Haven a couple hours beforehand.

“Winter is a plague,” Hope replies, setting the wine bottle on the coffee table between them. She plops down next to Annabelle on the couch, who rolls her eyes good-naturedly but otherwise doesn’t say anything.

“But what about cool winter sweaters, hot chocolate, snow?” Molly challenges, ticking them off on her hand.

“Sure, those are good things,” Hope admits with a neutral shrug.

“Summer is hot and sticky, your ice cream melts way too fast, and you can’t stop sweating.” Amy pauses. “Why _do_ you like summer so much?”

Surprisingly, Hope breaks into a wide grin.

“Dog days,” she answers. “You know, summer days are so long and it’s the only time everyone gets to experience the same type of forever.”

Hope’s looking at Amy now, her expression a little unnerving in its intensity. Annabelle is gaping at Hope in surprise and something like apprehension. But that can’t be right. Amy exchanges a look with Molly next to her, who’s eyes widen briefly with a twitch of her shoulders. 

“Yeah, well, it’s a good thing it’s not actually forever because you already bug the ever-loving shit out of me,” Annabelle replies after a moment and whatever it was that had been between them in the room shatters as Molly, Annabelle, and Hope burst into laughter. Amy laughs too but can’t shake the feeling that something significant has passed, that Hope had looked at her as if talking in a code that Amy should understand. But she doesn’t. 

They move on.

“Okay, okay. Whatever, Hope is a Grinch, nothing new. It’s your turn anyway, Hope. Truth or dare?” Molly asks.

Hope thinks about it for a moment. “Truth.”

“What’s the first thing you loved about Amy?” Molly says without skipping a beat and Hope’s eyes narrow in response, despite the playful, if not mischievous, smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Amy shoots Molly a look.

“Molly…” Amy glances at Hope. “I did not put her up to this.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” Hope pauses. “It was Amy’s voice.”

“Why?” Amy asks before she can stop herself. “It’s…gravelly. I don’t like my own voice.”

“Well, Hope does,” Annabelle pipes up. “She thinks it’s sexy. The first time you called her from Botswana, you said her name and she was swooning so hard, it was pretty much a panic attack. I remember because she called me immediately after and talked about how ‘sexy her name sounds on your lips’ for fifteen minutes straight.” Annabelle tilts her head to Hope. “That was the phrase, right?”

But Hope, hand loosely covering her face, just sends her a hollow look. 

“Dude…”

“Aw, shit, she didn’t know? My bad.” Annabelle looks back at Amy. “Hope likes your voice a chill and normal amount,” Annabelle amends, unperturbed, giving Hope a thumbs-up. 

Hope sends her a look that’s half irritated and half deeply embarrassed, the apples of her cheeks turning adorably pink.

Then, Molly howls with laughter and Amy joins in because it _is_ funny. Even if it is new information to Amy. She’ll have to tease Hope about it later. It makes her wonder if Hope has had feelings for her before that night at Nick’s party but dismisses it quickly. _Impossible._

So, Hope hates the cold and loves Amy’s voice. When Amy kisses Hope goodnight, she thinks that she might be able to change her mind.

\---

They’re twenty-six when Molly and Annabelle decide to move back to L.A. They visit Hope and Amy again a few days before the big move.

"I want to see!” Annabelle cries.

Amy whips around to where she knows Hope and Annabelle are standing in the corner, just in time to see Hope curl a fist and punch Annabelle in the shoulder. Annabelle yelps and rubs her arm, glaring at Hope before following Hope’s gaze to Amy and bowing her head reproachfully. But there’s something else in Annabelle’s expression that Amy can’t quite identify. Amy’s eyes shift to Hope, who gives her a tight smile. The sight would be comical if they didn't look so uneasy. Amy frowns as Molly brushes past them.

"What the fuck is in your bathroom?" Molly asks.

"What?" Amy replies with a hint of alarm.

"On the mirror? 'Come, dear, tell me how soon you can be altogether mine'?" Molly recites, arching an eyebrow.

"Oh, Hope will sometimes use a dry erase marker to leave me quotes or messages. She wrote that about a week ago, I think? I'd stayed late at the office because we were working on some new things for that anti-trafficking program. She was asleep when I finally got in. But that was on the mirror." Amy smiles slightly, remembering.

"Fuck, that's romantic," Molly says, shaking her head. "Why doesn't Annabelle do shit like that?"

"You could do shit like that," Amy points out.

"I could." And Molly looks as if she's just discovered something.

Amy glances back at Hope and Annabelle, who are bent towards each other, talking in hushed whispers. Amy can't help her curiosity. She makes a mental note to ask Hope about it later.

"So, you and Annabelle are moving back to L.A.?" Amy asks.

Molly nods. "She’ll start her residency program there. Afterwards, she’s gunning to work at that women's clinic near the high school but we’ll see. I've got a couple of interviews nearby as well, so hopefully it all works out. What about you and Hope? Any plans?"

"Not sure yet. Hope's been itching to go back to L.A. for some reason. But her contract with the magazine doesn't end until another couple of months. Regardless, I'm sure the organization can transfer me to the L.A. branch if we end up deciding to go that way." Amy hesitates. "Hope's been acting kind of weird lately."

Molly raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"What's that? What are you doing?" Amy asks, eyes narrowing.

"What? What am I doing?"

"You're doing your lawyer voice. Why?" Amy demands, her frown deepening.

"I'm not!"

"Molly – “

"I'm not," Molly insists. "How has Hope been acting weird?"

Amy watches Molly's face, still suspicious before responding.

"I don't know, she's just been a little distant. It's mostly just a feeling. But once, I walked into the room while she was on the phone and she hung up. Stopped mid-sentence and just ended the call. No goodbye or anything. It was weird," Amy tells her. She pauses for a moment. "You don't think she's cheating on me, do you?"

Amy knows that she's overreacting somewhat but she's known Hope a long time now and has figured out the minuscule changes in her expression and body language. Lately, Hope's face has become shuttered off, especially when she's on her phone. It worries Amy.

"No," Molly scoffs and this eases Amy's mind a little. "Hope's so in love with you, she'd rather gnaw off her own arm than hurt you. Besides, she knows what will happen to her if she does. I wouldn't worry about the phone thing," Molly eyes her over her glass of wine, and there's something about it that just seems... _off_. "I'm the one who's been calling Hope." 

That's news.

"Molly, is there something you're not telling me?" Amy asks slowly, tilting her head slightly.

"Like what?" Molly asks innocently. 

And Amy knows then that Molly's lying. For as long as Amy has known her, Molly is always in constant motion. She's always pacing or tapping her pencil or bouncing her leg. Lost in thought, Molly will mumble under her breath or subconsciously pick at her thumb. Even when she's listening, the muscles in her face are moving, responding in kind to whatever she may be hearing. As Amy is watching her now, Molly's expression is so still.

"You tell me."

Molly lets out a small laugh but it sounds a little stilted to Amy's ears. 

"Look, it’s not a big deal. We just talk about photography, I wanted to try it out and she’s giving me tips. She was teaching me about shutter speed the other day. After she lectured me on the pros and cons of color film.” Amy gives her a dubious look and Molly swallows but continues. “All I'm saying is that Hope isn’t cheating on you and if she wanted you to know something, I'm sure she'd tell you."

"And if you were keeping something from me?" Amy challenges. There's an edge to her voice that she seldom uses, and Molly's eyes dart away. But before she can respond, Annabelle calls to her.

"Hey babe, what's the other firm that you're interviewing at? The one in East Hollywood?"

Molly shuffles past Amy with an abashed shrug. Amy watches her go and finally glances at Hope, who returns her gaze curiously. But her eyes are strange. Guilty, even. Like she’s been caught.

And now Amy's upset and she doesn't know why. She throws back the rest of her wine wordlessly and goes back to the kitchen for more.

\---

They go back to L.A. 

Amy's parents have been urging them to come back for a visit, and so they go for a week. Hope is strangely agitated the days before the trip. 

“Sorry,” Hope replies when Amy asks her about it after they’re seated on the plane. “This article is stressing me out. I don't like the pictures I took and my writing seems forced...”

Amy pecks her lips and leaves it at that. But she wants to ask Hope about Molly. Because Amy has formed her own theories, and she’s gotta know.

“Molly’s told me that she’s been calling you,” Amy starts, shooting Hope a furtive look. Amy feels Hope tense beneath her hand but she otherwise doesn’t say anything. “She says you guys talk about photography but I suspect she’s keeping something from me.” Hope’s face becomes stone. “And it looks like you are too.”

“Amy – “

“Is Molly gonna propose to Annabelle?” Amy blurts out. 

Hope shifts her gaze to their intertwined fingers, rubs a thumb across the back of Amy’s hand almost absently. But there's a concentration in Hope that makes the air around them still. Sometimes, Amy gets the sense that Hope is trying to memorize her, like this will be the only chance she'll get to do so. This is one of those times as Amy's skin reacts to Hope's fingertips grazing her knuckles. And Amy’s mind seizes the sensation, lets the familiarity of Hope’s touch comfort her.

“She hasn’t...outright said anything,” Hope answers finally. “She’s just asked me a lot of hypotheticals and a lot of stuff about Annabelle...” Hope glances at Amy with impassive eyes. “She begged me not to say anything. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Amy is hurt. Not because Hope kept it from her, she can understand that. But because _Molly_ had kept it from her. That she doesn’t understand in the slightest. 

“Don’t be. I’m sure she’ll tell me when she’s ready,” Amy says somewhat hollowly. 

Hope looks at her for a moment before reaching up and brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes with gentle fingers. Amy can see the tiredness under Hope’s eyes. _That article is really stressing her out._

Amy reaches for her book from her bag under the seat.

“Want me to read to you for a little bit?”

And it’s as if Hope has been waiting for exactly that, her expression relaxing so significantly that it makes Amy's breath hitch a little. 

"Yeah."

Amy lets Hope get comfortable under the blanket, watches Hope tilt her head towards Amy as she leans against the seat. When she’s settled, Amy flips open the book and quietly starts reading.

When they arrive, Amy shoots Molly a text about meeting up. She wants to talk about what happened the last time they saw each other, because she's still so confused. Their conversation had taken a weird turn, and while Amy may know the reason why, she wants Molly to tell her herself. But Molly declines, telling her that she and Annabelle still have a lot to unpack. Amy has the strange, vacant feeling that Molly is avoiding her.

Hope and Amy stay with Amy’s parents, who immediately engulf Amy in a hug. There are tears in her mom's eyes and Amy resolves to talk to them more.

"We were thinking of having a little dinner party tomorrow night, just a little welcome back shindig. It's been a long time since we've had all of our girls back here," Amy's dad tells them over lunch. "We've invited Hope's parents, and Molly and Annabelle and their parents, of course."

"Oh, I think Molly and Annabelle are a little busy with moving in and all that," Amy says, trying to sound offhand.

"They've already said they're coming," Amy's mom replies, a little bewildered.

"Oh." 

Amy has to admit, it stings a little. But she's glad that things between her and Molly aren't too weird to the point that she'd avoid Amy altogether. Hope places her hand over Amy's and gives her a quiet smile.

"It's gonna be a little more fancy than usual, so make sure you dress up," Amy's mom tells her happily. And even though dressing up sounds like the last thing she wants to do, Amy doesn't have the heart to tell her mom that.

When Amy's dad asks her mom about foodstuff for tomorrow, Hope gently shakes Amy's hand to get her attention.

"It'll be fun," Hope whispers. She brings Amy's hand to her lips and Amy falls a little bit more in love.

\---

The next day is a whirlwind of activity. Amy’s parents love Annabelle’s vegan stuffed jalapeño poppers. So, even though Annabelle and Molly arrive early to help prep food, Amy and Molly don't get a chance to talk.

Amy's silently chopping jalapeños as Annabelle quickly makes the stuffing for them next to her.

"You good, Antsler? Seem a little quiet today," Annabelle comments, glancing sideways at her.

"Fine." Annabelle stops what she's doing and quirks an eyebrow at her. "Ok, maybe a little less than fine. Molly and I have been a little weird lately. I think she's keeping something from me but I don't know what. I'm just...worried, I guess," Amy says, chewing on her lip.

Annabelle places a hand on Amy's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "You have nothing to worry about, Amy."

And she sounds so sincere, Amy understands why she and Hope are friends. 

"Thanks, Annabelle."

Soon after, her parents send her to the grocery store for more supplies.

"I'll go with you," Molly says from her spot next to Hope as they blow up balloons.

"It's okay, I can go by myself," Amy responds somewhat stiffly. Hope looks up from her balloons to stare at Amy, her eyes sharp.

Molly sets her jaw as she rises. "I insist."

Amy doesn’t say anything as she grabs her jacket and waits, ambivalent, while Molly does the same.

Amy's barely pulling out from the driveway before Molly turns in her seat towards her.

"Look, Amy. I'm sorry, you were right before. I have been keeping something from you. It's not anything dire but I just need to sort a few more things out. I promise I'll tell you everything after tonight. Is that okay?" Molly says earnestly.

Amy sighs as she grips the steering wheel. Molly has always been direct, or blunt as others would say. But it's one of the reasons why Amy loves her. The few times they've had arguments, Molly is the first to address it, head-on, and so, resolutions are usually quick and simple. 

"Yeah, that's okay. As long as you're okay and it's nothing bad," Amy says glancing at her curiously.

"I'm okay and it's nothing bad," Molly responds with a slight smile.

"And you can't tell me anything?" Amy presses, trying to sound casual.

"I want to, but it'll be easier after the party," Molly says, nodding her head decisively.

Amy sighs again and Molly looks as if she's about to burst. But then Molly’s phone vibrates in her pocket and whatever was about to happen doesn't.

Amy trusts Molly with her life. So, she must have a reason for not telling Amy. And yet...Amy forces herself to focus on the road.

When they get back, Hope has already changed. Her hair is half up, held in place by a silver hair pin. She's wearing a killer yellow dress with a high neck and lantern sleeves, cinched at the waist before billowing out and ending a couple inches above her knee.

She's stunning.

Amy kind of wants to rip the dress right off.

"Whoa," Amy breathes out, approaching her from behind. Hope turns and Amy doesn't think she can look more radiant. But then Hope smiles.

"There you are, babe," Hope says with a sigh of relief. She leans down and brushes her lips against Amy's quickly. "Go get dressed, everyone will be here soon."

"How soon?"

Hope glances at her watch. "Like a little less than an hour. What are you wearing again? Do you need me to –” Hope stops short at the look on Amy's face. "Amy!"

"What? I can't help myself, I haven't seen you in that dress before!" Amy says defensively, her eyes still roaming hungrily over Hope's body.

"Sweetheart, yes, you have. At Annabelle and Molly's graduation?" Hope questions incredulously. 

The memory comes almost instantaneously. Amy feels as if there is _another_ memory of Hope in this dress. Or maybe in something similar? But the memory is just beyond Amy's reach. Whatever. She must have dreamt it.

"Ooo, yeah, that's my bad."

Hope looks up at the ceiling and flexes her fingers. 

"Go get dressed. I'm sending Molly and Annabelle to help you because I'm not letting you distract me."

Amy thinks about saying something flirty but Hope looks so serious that Amy thinks better of it. 

"Fine," Amy huffs, turning on her heel and making her way to her bedroom. 

She hears Hope grumble under her breath, something about Amy 'being the death of her.' _You and me both,_ Amy thinks, gazing intently at Hope's receding figure before shutting the door behind her.

Everyone arrives as expected. But the atmosphere is...odd. Amy can't quite put her finger on it. She dismisses it when Hope turns to her, finally seeing her after she's changed, and Hope's expression softens. Amy doesn't know how she does it, but Hope always manages to make her feel like she's the only person on Earth. Hope makes her way over to Amy, her smile growing.

"You look so beautiful," Hope murmurs, bending down to kiss her cheek.

"Thanks, hopefully I won't distract you anymore," Amy tells her with a grin.

"I misspoke earlier. You’re the only thing I see, everyone else is a distraction,” Hope says almost matter-of-factly, missing the way Amy blushes as she looks at something over Amy's shoulder. Hope turns back to her. "I think your parents want you."

"Oh, ok." Amy turns and strides over to her parents.

"Do you mind pouring everyone some champagne, dear?" her mom asks. "Your dad wants to make a speech."

"Of course." 

Amy grabs the bottle and starts pouring it into the empty glasses set out on the island.

She makes small talk with Annabelle's parents and Molly's mom as she hands them their glasses before moving on to Hope's parents.

"It's so good to see you, Amy. It's been a long time," Hope's dad says with a smile that looks just like Hope's.

"It's good to see you both as well. It has been a long time. Hope and I will make more of an effort to visit," she tells them somewhat apologetically.

Hope's mom waves her off. "Nonsense, I'm sure we'll see you both more often in the near future."

"Right... Well, if you'll excuse me." 

_Weird_. Amy turns away from them, wondering if Hope has talked to her parents about possibly moving back. She hears Hope behind her hiss _mom_ but ignores it. 

Amy moves toward Annabelle and Molly who are watching her approach with something like amusement. 

"I feel like a German soldier in _Inglourious Basterds_. Scalped. Because you look so fucking great, Amy, " Molly tells her as she accepts the flute of champagne. "Man, we did such a good job with you."

"But look at you. Where's the nearest church? Need to alert the masses of the literal goddess among us," Amy replies, grinning.

Annabelle rolls her eyes. "Wait a minute, you mean _I_ did a good job, Molly. You did nothing."

"Moral support, babe," Molly replies with a shrug. 

Before Amy can say anything, Molly pushes past Annabelle to engulf Amy in a hug.

"Dude, what is up with you? Are you dying?" Amy jokes, although Molly's mood is making her a little bit anxious.

"No, I just can't wait to catch up with you after all this," Molly says. She grins at Amy, earnest and sincere.

"Or you can just tell me now," Amy suggests. Molly looks so conflicted but then Annabelle interrupts.

"I think your parents are waiting on you, Amy."

Amy sighs. "You better find me later." And Molly crosses her heart in response.

Amy returns to her parents and she notices there are tears in her mom's eyes again.

"Mom?"

"Sorry, baby. I'm just so happy to see everyone in one place again," her mom sniffs. 

She hugs Amy tightly but briefly. When her mom pulls away, her dad leans in to kiss her hair.

"Looks like it's time, baby girl," he says, his voice somewhat shaky. Amy takes a couple of steps back, shoving her confusion aside as her dad clears his throat. "Hello, everyone. Thank you all for coming on such a big night. There's a lot I want to say but before I get started, I think Hope has a few words."

Amy's brow furrows as she whips around. She expects to find Hope with her parents. 

But she's not. 

In fact, she's quite close, practically an arm’s length away. Hope offers Amy a nervous smile before holding out a black box with gold trim and dropping slowly, deliberately down onto one knee. 

"Amy," Hope breathes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might have noticed that this is part 1. which implies that there will be a part 2. yeah...there will be. who knows when. give me ideas and encouragement. hold me accountable (or whatever else) right here: whenfliespig.tumblr.com. 
> 
> thank you for reading as always.


	5. ordinary miracles pt. 2

Hope still has residual nerves. So, she wipes her hands on her dress as she hangs back a little as their parents gush over Amy’s ring. Finally, their parents begin to talk excitedly amongst themselves about wedding plans and Hope lets Amy lead her away, toward Molly and Annabelle. When Amy's close enough, Molly launches herself into Amy's arms.

"Little pup, you're engaged," Molly says, her voice full of muffled excitement.

"I know," Amy replies, dazed.

Annabelle tugs Hope off to the side to give them a moment before enveloping her in a hug.

“It’s lucky you came to Crockett, huh?” Annabelle says thoughtfully, pulling away. “Lucky you found her.”

Hope thinks about this for a moment. “I think I used to think that way. Now, it’s more like I’m lucky she’s my soulmate kind of thing. Because I think if she weren’t, I would have fallen in love with her anyway. And what a mess that would have been.”

Annabelle grins at her. “You’re engaged.”

“I’m engaged.” Hope repeats as she feels the blush on her cheeks.

“It’s so fuckin’ weird, we just graduated high school.”

“Eight years ago, Annabelle,” Hope laughs but she kind of feels the same way.

“So, as your maid of honor, do I get to wear a dress or a suit?” She gasps and squeezes Hope’s hand hard. “Both?”

Before Hope can ask what the fuck she means, Molly and Amy are next to them. Molly immediately brings Amy's hand up to eye level, inspecting the ring carefully.

"The ring is very nice, Hope," Molly tells her with a firm nod.

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." Hope drawls, but Hope knows that Molly really does approve.

"You didn't see the ring before?" Amy asks Molly.

Molly shoots Hope a look. 

"No," Molly answers through her teeth. " _Someone_ wanted it to be a surprise."

"She showed me," Annabelle remarks with a shrug. Molly clutches Amy's arm, jaw dropping in betrayal.

"How could you? I'm the love of your life. The apple of your eye."

Annabelle rolls her eyes. "You are but you also would have gone with Hope to the jewelry store and picked the ring yourself. Ignoring all of Hope’s input."

"It's traditional for the first wife to pick out the ring."

"That's not at all true," Annabelle counters flatly.

Amy catches Hope's eye before turning back to Molly.

"I thought you were going to propose to Annabelle," Amy says with some embarrassment. "That's what Hope hinted at, at least."

"She told me to lie to you," Hope says a little accusingly. Hope doesn’t lie to Amy, after all.

"What?"

Molly shrugs. "It was that day at your apartment. When you told me that Hope was being weird on the phone? Which, your nerves of steel were astonishing, Hope. Scooby Doo would be so proud,” Molly adds derisively. Hope flips her off in response. "I knew she was talking to Annabelle or your parents, sometimes me, on those phone calls but I thought if I told you that, that would make you suspicious. So, I said that I was calling to ask about photography shit to cover for her. I also figured you'd bring it up to Hope. So, I suggested that she imply I was proposing to keep you off her trail."

"It was brilliant," Hope admits grudgingly.

Molly grins at her. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"That's elaborate," Amy says with a soft chuckle. Hope moves forward to kiss her hairline, relishing the way Amy leans into her touch.

The doorbell rings and Amy frowns in confusion.

"I got it!" Molly calls, walking away.

"Who's here?" Amy questions, looking between Hope and Annabelle.

"Your parents didn't tell you?" Annabelle asks, beaming. "We invited _everyone_. This is your engagement party."

And, in Hope's humble opinion, the party is a banger.

One of the first people to show, strangely enough, is Gigi. She glides in, greeting Hope’s parents as they’re leaving. Amy’s parents, who plan to go to a swap meet near Bakersfield tomorrow and will stay at a hotel near there tonight, exchange puzzled glances when Gigi recommends a great breakfast place near “the spot where a school bus spontaneously exploded and the only thing commemorating the incident is a stop sign”. 

Gigi somehow spots Hope first and makes a beeline towards her, engulfing her in a surprisingly strong hug. Hope pats her back a little awkwardly.

“It’s good to see you, Gigi,” Hope says when they pull away. “You look tan.” 

And she does, her white smile standing out easily.

“Finally earned my year’s sabbatical. Well, sort of. I made them give it to me so Jared and some friends and I could go to Quintana Roo for a couple of months. I was hoping to excavate some clue as to who murdered that one woman ten thousand years ago but we didn’t find anything.” 

Gigi frowns sullenly as Hope figures out how to reply.

“Gigi, I thought you worked at Berklee teaching music composition? What’s that have to do with…archeological excavation?”

“Oh no. I don’t work there. I mean, I’m on their payroll and technically I’m an assistant professor,” Gigi states, using air quotes around assistant professor, “but I do other things too. Like sculpting and solving age-old murders. Speaking of age-old, are you guys good with it then?” 

And this last question obliterates anything Gigi had previously said because she’s looking at Hope with a knowing smile. Hope takes a breath in an attempt to slow her now racing pulse.

“What are you – “

“Oh, damn, you and Amy haven’t talked yet, huh?” Gigi glances around briefly. “Where is Amy anyway?”

“What haven’t I talked to Amy about?” Hope asks apprehensively. 

But Gigi doesn’t reply as she spots Amy bidding her parents goodbye.

“God, I fuckin’ love her,” Gigi comments fondly, intensely. 

Hope gives her a perplexed look, still reeling.

“You do know that I’m her fiancée, right? That this is our engagement party? It’s important to me that you know that.”

Gigi rolls her eyes. “Platonic love is just as important as romantic love, Hope. Besides, I didn’t say I was _her_ soulmate. I think we both know who is in this life. I’ll get her in the next one.” 

Gigi winks at her before calling Amy’s name and prancing over to her.

Hope doesn’t move, trying to process and not panic, and so she doesn’t notice when Annabelle, Molly, and Jared walk up.

Jared offers his congratulations as Annabelle casually hands Hope a beer. But when Hope meets her eye, Annabelle’s gaze flicks to where Gigi and Amy are talking before smiling slightly in amusement.

Hope takes a swig because she’s starting to think that it might be a long night.

Everyone else shows up some moments later. Amy's college friends, Hope's college friends, a few of Amy's friends from work. Even other people from high school. Hope sees it as proof of Amy's goodness. That people would travel across the country to celebrate her without a second thought. Hope briefly wonders if she’s ever fallen in love with the Amy who people would not show up for. Or the Amy who was a felon, and not the almost-felon she is in this lifetime. _Statistically, it’s possible_ , Hope supposes.

Hope, for her part, is drunk off her ass. Which is precisely why she’s sitting a little ways away from the thick of it, hoping that this kitchenette table is enough of a buffer to keep people from giving her another congratulatory shot of whatever.

Annabelle pushes a cup of water into Hope’s hand.

“Thank you, Annabelle. So excited for you to be my maid of honor. You could literally wear whatever the hell you want. Just nothing _She-Ra_ related please. I know you – “

“I kind of forgot how much you talk when you drink,” Annabelle comments, nose wrinkling a little. “Water,” Annabelle nods at the cup in Hope’s hand who dutifully takes a sip as Annabelle walks away.

Amy drops down into the seat next to Hope a moment later and gestures to the cup in her hand. "Water?"

Hope nods, holding it out to her which Amy takes gratefully. Amy’s cheeks are adorably flushed in the way that tends to happen when she’s been drinking. Hope notices Amy's watching her over the brim of the cup.

"What?"

"Thank you, for doing it here. With the people we love. Just, thank you," Amy says earnestly, maybe a little shyly. Just another small reminder of why Hope is wholly in love with her.

"You know, today's the day that I first saw you. Well, I heard your voice first. Ten years ago," Hope tells her. Amy raises her brow. "You and Molly had just gotten back from Amsterdam. I saw you in the hallway just before class. I was quite the mess, you should ask Annabelle."

They're silent for a moment, ghost of a smile on Amy’s lips.

"I love you and I can't wait to get you alone." 

Amy looks and sounds as if she's talking about the weather. Except her hand has drifted to a spot above Hope’s knee, and she flicks the edge of Hope's dress a little to drag her nails lightly against the skin on the inside of her thigh. Hope doesn’t know whether it’s because she’s so, so drunk or because it’s Amy, but her skin just responds. Like it’d been lying dormant all these years, waiting for Amy’s touch.

"Fuck," Hope rushes out before she can stop herself. She throws an irritated glance in the general direction of the party because everyone should just fucking leave. Right now.

Amy lets out a light laugh and mercifully lifts her hand to wiggle her fingers in front them, ring flashing in the light. "You sure you want to marry me? You know this means forever, right?"

Hope rolls her eyes a little. "Of course, I do. Do you know what it’s like to go through lifetimes, just hoping to run into you? It’s like that scene in _Alice in Wonderland_ where she just keeps fucking falling. I've been chasing you for centuries. So, I know that marrying you will be the only thing I do that matters because my soul is bound to yours. And I –” Hope freezes, barely breathing.

Amy blinks. "What? What are you saying? We're soulmates? Like literal soulmates?"

Hope hesitates, tries to tread carefully. "I – do you believe in soulmates, Amy?" 

Amy doesn't say anything, her eyes suddenly unreadable in a way Hope isn’t used to. 

"Hey, Hope! Quit eye-fucking your fiancée, and come be my beer pong partner," Annabelle calls from across the room, waving her over. 

"I'm going to murder her," Hope mutters, glaring daggers at Annabelle. 

Amy chuckles. "Go play. We'll talk later."

Hope rises and drifts over to Annabelle as everything she’s just said to Amy sinks in. With it comes panic.

Annabelle hands Hope a ping pong ball absently, and Hope taps the wooden table in front of Annabelle to get her attention.

“So, I might have made a mistake.”

Annabelle whirls around in alarm, hand poised around a red Solo cup. “What?”

“I might be back in that shitty boat.” Hope leans on the table to steady herself and offers Annabelle a small smile, although she suspects it comes out like a grimace. But Annabelle seems to understand, her brow smoothing in recognition at their code phrase.

“Molly, why don’t you and Amy take over? Hope and I are driving to get some beer,” Annabelle calls, squeezing Hope’s hand briefly.

“Oh, did we run out already?” Molly asks, frowning.

“No, but Hope and I have a favorite. Circum Session Ale,” Annabelle tells her, grinning. 

This momentarily distracts Hope from the tension in her throat and gut as she remembers their “bro beer” as they used to call it in high school. Not for the first time, Hope is so grateful that when she doesn’t have the right words, Annabelle always does. 

“Come again?” Molly asks, mouth agape but Annabelle ignores the question.

“Keys, babe?” Annabelle says, holding out a hand to Molly, who plucks the keys from her pocket and drops them into Annabelle’s hand.

Hope feels a kiss at her cheek.

“You okay?” Amy whispers to her. 

Hope looks into her eyes and sees concern but she feels like she sees something else. And Hope doesn’t consider herself brave enough to identify it, much less consider what it might mean.

“Yeah,” Hope replies with a numb nod. But Amy sets her lips in a disbelieving line. Before either of them can say anything, Molly tugs at Amy’s hand.

“Come on, Amy, it’s time to win! It’s all about geometry, so you could really make or break us here. Hope you’ve improved since high school.”

Molly makes like she’s practicing her aim as she holds the ping pong up to eye level, and Amy just looks at her, somehow both aghast and completely unsurprised.

“Jesus, fuck you, dude,” Amy says dully. Hope sees Amy and Molly exchange a glance and the panic within her flares large and loud like a forest fire within her. But then Annabelle is in front of her, lays a hand on Hope’s forearm and raises her brow imperceptibly: _it’s okay, I’ve handled it_.

“Ready?”

Hope nods and lets Annabelle lead them out the door.

“What did you tell Molly?” Hope asks anxiously as they’re driving.

“I just told her you needed some air. Amy’s probably not gonna talk to her tonight, there’s too many people around. So, you should be good for now,” Annabelle replies, flipping her blinker before making a right.

Hope’s impressed and very glad that Annabelle is somewhat sober. Annabelle’s right about Amy: she’s unlikely to bring up the fact that… _oh God_. Hope burrows her face in her hands. She tries to recall the conversation but it’s a little hazy. _It wasn’t that bad, right_? Amy's been drinking too, after all.

“Hope, what happened?” Annabelle’s soft voice breaks through Hope’s thoughts.

“I told her, dude,” Hope sighs, slumping against the car seat.

“Well, what did you say exactly?” Annabelle presses, glancing at her.

“She was fucking with me, asking me if I was sure about marrying her because the ring meant forever or whatever,” Hope starts. “And I said of course because I’ve been chasing her for centuries. I talked about _Alice in Wonderland_ for some reason, I don’t – I don’t know. And then I think I said something about my soul only recognizing hers, something like that.”

Hope tries to think back but she only gets flashes of disjointed memories.

“You don’t remember?!” Annabelle asks incredulously. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Four shots and two beers,” Hope ventures. It’s a ballpark number, definitely under-shot.

“I forget you’re a light-weight,” Annabelle mutters. “It’s because you tower over people, your height is misleading.”

“Literally having a mental breakdown. But yes, please continue to insult my height and alcohol intolerance,” Hope snaps.

Annabelle doesn’t take the bait, she never does. Instead, she pulls into the parking lot and parks but doesn’t make any move to get out. She turns in her seat to face Hope.

“What did Amy say?”

“She asked if we were soulmates?”

“And your answer?”

“I didn’t answer because your dumbass interrupted our conversation.” Annabelle sends her a look. “I’m sorry, I just know that I’ve fucked it up before, by telling her in the past. I hadn’t meant to this time, it just slipped out. What if she thinks I’m this crazy chick who believes that they’re gonna be together no matter what? Like some weird blood pact shit? Ugh, I literally just proposed to her. What if she backs out? What if she breaks up with me and I never see her again?”

“Those are a lot of what-if’s, Hope. I – “ 

“Those things have happened before, Annabelle,” Hope cuts her off. “I can feel it, not the full force of it. But I know they’ve happened. Probably some weird defense mechanism as the universe’s one act of mercy for me. But I know we’ve had encounters where we’ve broken up over this. What if it happens again? All because I couldn’t keep my goddamn mouth shut.”

Hope rubs her eyes with the base of her palms as her eyes begin to fill with tears. Never finding Amy in a given lifetime sucks, but her and Amy being an almost is unspeakably devastating. She feels Annabelle reach out and rub her arm soothingly.

“Hope, it’s gonna be okay. I think you’re forgetting how much Amy goddamn adores you. Maybe from your perspective of multiple lifetimes that can seem insignificant. But from this singular one, it’s not. You said it yourself that you guys are different in every lifetime, just bound to be together in some way. So maybe in this one Amy doesn’t believe you. Or maybe she does. Who knows. But I doubt she’s gonna leave you or whatever because she loves you so much and she’s a force to be reckoned with. Let her surprise you.”

“I just don’t want to be this close to having her just to lose her.”

“You should have more faith in Amy. She’s not one of the smartest girls we know for nothing. Universe be damned.”

Hope chuckles then sighs. It doesn’t change anything but Hope feels lighter regardless.

“Yeah. You’re right. Thank you, Annabelle. You’ve been a great friend. I should get you a fruit basket. Do you like Edible Arrangements?” Hope asks, gesturing to the store which is very obviously closed. She’s mostly joking but she truly is so thankful. So, if Annabelle wants a fruit basket, Hope will make sure she gets one.

“Unless we’re talking about marijuana, I’m deeply uninterested. And I’m not a forty-year old stay-at-home mom lusting after the pool boy. What you _can_ do is buy a case of our bro beer.”

Hope lays a hand over her heart. “Excuse me, you should get it. I was quite obviously under severe duress.”

“Yeah, and I handled it like a motherfucking pro. I deserve compensation.” Annabelle waves her hand in a _shoo-shoo_ motion. “Now go before I tell Molly you’ve kidnapped me.”

\---

Hope doesn’t get to talk to Amy about it the next couple of days because Molly immediately sweeps her away to start planning their wedding. Hope is both relieved and irritated. But mostly relieved. They’re finally taking a break from all the wedding things and are having a movie day at Molly and Annabelle’s new place. And even though Hope feels the perpetual stress of needing to talk to Amy stretch across her shoulders, threatening to snap, she forces herself to relax. Amy hasn’t outright broken up with her so that must be a good sign. Right?

And anyway, Hope knows she’s _thinking_ about it. Sometimes, she’ll catch Amy staring at her, reticent and calculating, like she’s trying to figure Hope out. Much like she would when they first started dating. It unnerves Hope a little. But mostly, strangely it reassures her because Hope has always loved Amy’s silences. Has fallen in love with them long before anything between her and Amy was concrete. When they have these moments now, all Hope can do is return her stare, acutely feeling the blood coursing through her veins and vaguely feeling like she wants to shove her tongue down Amy’s throat. 

Hope’s watching Amy now, as Amy listens to Annabelle talk about healthcare policy in California. And Hope is kind of…wholly entranced. She watches the way Amy tilts her head in such a way that strands of hair fall forward as she leans her elbows on her knees, chin on her knuckles, all the while maintaining furrowed eye contact with Annabelle, nodding every now and then. Hope adores that while Amy is selective in her attention, she gives it wholly.

Hope turns to Molly next to her who’s reaching for the popcorn bag and opening it gingerly over a large bowl.

“Can I ask you something?” Molly spares her a wary glance but nods all the same. “What did Amy want to be when she was growing up?”

A thoughtful, nostalgic smile makes its way onto Molly’s features. She leans a hip against the counter as she turns to look at Hope.

“It changed a lot,” Molly answers finally. “Zookeeper was the first one, I think. Wait no, it was an animal caregiver, like at an animal sanctuary specifically. She would correct me all the time. Then it was librarian, local county judge, ambassador, social worker, president at one point. I’m sure there’s more I’m missing. Why?”

Hope glances at Amy once more. Hope can’t make out the words she’s saying but she can hear the cadence of her voice, the dips in her tone. Hope lets this fill her before turning back to Molly.

“I was just curious. She’d have been really good at all of those,” Hope remarks.

“I know,” Molly admits. Molly’s smile turns a little mischievous. “You wanna know a secret?” Hope frowns at her curiously as she nods. “Amy was _always_ the smarter one of the two of us. Still is.”

Hope disagrees with this but she also doesn’t. She remembers Molly from high school, pouring over textbooks with a ferocity that was a bit frightening. On the other hand, Amy is nothing short of extraordinary, learning things with such depth that Hope has difficulty keeping up. But Hope is also irrevocably in love with Amy, so she just might be a little biased. Regardless, it kind of shocks Hope that Molly is both able to recognize Amy’s brilliance and admit to it. And it makes her even more curious.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true. I know what you’re going to say. That _I_ was valedictorian but Amy could easily have been if she’d cared enough to actively pursue it.”

“Why didn’t she?” 

Molly grins wide here.

“You know why. I wanted to kill it in high school and in college. I wanted to break glass ceilings, I wanted to be great. Amy did those things but they weren’t her goals. I think she was somehow able to see past all that. I think she really just wanted to be good.” Molly pauses, a warm smile gracing her features. And Hope knows this is one of the few times she and Molly feel the exact same thing. “Amy is all about big picture things. Because she just wants everything. All the time. She wants to know everything and do everything because she wants to make and see macro level change. And when you ask her about it, about why she does so much, she gets this kind of bewildered frown, right? Like she’s never thought to give less than everything that she is. So, it’s a gift when Amy…looks at you, gives you her undivided attention.” Molly looks at Amy now with an affectionate smile. “Because Amy loves with her attention and I knew early on that I was lucky to be loved by her.” Molly turns back to Hope, her gaze both piercing and curious. “You understand.”

It’s a statement, the kind that Molly is famous for. The kind that leaves little to no room for argument. Not that Hope would even think to do so, especially now.

“Of course, I do.” Hope hesitates. “Do you ever think Amy…let you be valedictorian?” Hope asks tentatively. Hope tries to be tactful in this, but obviously fails. She hates that she implies that Molly didn’t earn it because Hope knows that she did. But it doesn’t really matter because Molly’s expression becomes purely thoughtful again and Hope is quite amazed by how much Molly has changed since high school.

“I’ve thought that in the past. But I think what we mistake about Amy, what even I forget about her sometimes, is that Amy doesn’t lay down for people. She doesn’t make herself smaller to make other people great. It’s so easy to perceive her silences as weakness. But really, it just means her focus is elsewhere. Because when she’s passionate about something, everything about her is invested in it and everything else becomes ancillary. Being valedictorian, being the best in high school, wasn’t really on Amy’s radar. So, yeah. I don’t think she let me but I do think I had a bit of luck.”

“Amy is so fucking smart, I won’t deny it,” Hope says after awhile. “But so are you. Both of you are. And it wasn't luck.”

Hope looks sideways at Molly, who looks pensive before grinning wickedly.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm fucking brilliant." 

Molly flips her hair over her shoulder with an exaggerated sniff and Hope laughs. An easy silence passes between them. Hope's pleased to note that they've had many moments like these in the past. Hope wouldn't have thought in million years that she'd get along with Molly. And yet, here they are.

“I always hoped she would become president actually,” Molly says.

Hope chuckles. “If anyone could do it, she could. And we live in the right place, all those New York electoral votes.”

Molly laughs before her face contorts into one of faint disdain. “Fuck the electoral college.”

“Absolutely.”

They exchange a glance before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

“What were you guys laughing at?” Amy asks, eying Hope curiously as she flops down on the floor in front of her.

“The electoral college.”

“Oh, Molly’s future colleagues?” Annabelle pipes up with a grin.

“When I’m supreme court justice, I’m gonna abolish it,” Molly says firmly.

“I don’t think that’s how it works…”

Molly shrugs. “I’ll at least rename it the clown college.”

Annabelle rolls her eyes. “Keep shooting for the stars, babe.”

Hope turns to Amy, who’s chuckling behind her.

“I’ll start the movie?” Hope asks.

Amy nods and Hope reaches for the remote next to Amy’s thigh, kissing Amy’s shin as she does so. Hope never used to be the affectionate type. Once in middle school, she almost snapped a boy’s wrist for touching her hair. So, yeah, Hope hated being touched. That is until she met Amy. Now she can’t keep her hands off her.

\---

After Amy’s begging and cajoling, Molly finally relents and lets them take a break from wedding planning. They’re only a few miles away from Downtown Santa Monica, so they pile into Annabelle’s car and head there.

It’s spring and a nice day for a break. Although, the sun becomes more and more hidden as grey clouds move past, promising rain. 

Annabelle sidles up next to Hope as Molly and Amy take off to get ice cream.

“How are you holding up?”

Hope shrugs. “Not day-drinking.”

“But you want to,” Annabelle says, quirking a smile.

“You’re just waiting for me to become an alcoholic.” Hope knocks her shoulder against Annabelle’s as she laughs.

“Seriously though.” Annabelle gives her a knowing look. 

Hope sighs. “What do you think? We haven’t even spoken about it. Kinda feels like I’m waiting for a death sentence.”

Annabelle hums but doesn’t reply.

“You think it’s gonna turn out alright,” Hope comments.

Hope’s not asking but she does wonder how Annabelle can have that much optimism, when she knows Annabelle has never had much to begin with growing up. Annabelle shuffles her feet a bit.

“I have a lot of faith in Amy,” Annabelle replies.

Hope notices that Annabelle says it with a conviction that she’d never really seen before. Annabelle feels Hope’s eyes on her and meets her gaze briefly before speaking again.

“You remember how I got my nickname in high school.”

“I remember,” Hope answers curtly. It still infuriates her.

“I never told you this but Amy found me crying in the bathroom about it, after Josh had started that rumor when I’d turned him down but before I’d started living up to the nickname.” Annabelle smiles sardonically here. “She believed me, without question. Even gave me a tissue and eye drops. She didn’t even know me then…” Annabelle trails off, frowning vaguely at her shoes. “I don’t know what she said to him but he apologized to me a couple of days later.”

They’re quiet for a moment. It astounds Hope how easy it is to love Amy.

“I know it’s not really the same thing but yeah, I think she’s gonna believe you. She believed me.”

Hope rolls her shoulders. She feels like she’s at war with herself. She loves Amy, and that seems to grow without her actively tending to it. But she also wants to stop it where it is, stop it from getting too high. Because if Amy decides to take it all away, the resulting fall won’t be so devastating. Hope thinks it might be a little too late for that, hates feeling like she’s already losing the ground beneath her feet. Hope rolls her shoulders again.

Annabelle notices this and firmly taps her foot against the toe of Hope’s shoe, causing Hope to look up.

“I don’t know about your other lifetimes but if I had to put my money on anyone, I’d put my money on Amy in this one,” Annabelle says with such certainty that that monster of doubt in Hope falls silent for a moment.

Amy and Molly come bounding up to them. Amy hands off Hope’s strawberry ice cream to her before turning to Annabelle excitedly. 

“Annabelle, there’s a pot of Bear’s breeches growing outside this bookshop that’s over three feet tall,” Amy tells her.

Annabelle’s eyes go wide with a grin. “No way! Show me.”

She grabs her mint chocolate chip ice cream from Molly, barely sparing her a glance before following Amy.

“You’re welcome,” Molly calls, causing Hope to snort before taking a bite. 

Hope and Molly start walking after them slowly.

“I know about your secret,” Molly tells her mysteriously.

Hope turns to her quickly, trying not to panic.

“What?”

“Amy says you don’t dunk your Oreos in milk, you just eat them.”

Hope stares at her. “I’m lactose sensitive.”

“There’s a variety of alternative milks out there,” Molly informs her. “And there’s milk in your ice cream there.” 

Molly nods at it almost accusingly.

Hope rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever. I think milk by itself tastes kinda gross. Like, what do you do with the milk once you’re done eating the Oreos? You drink it?” Hope makes a face. “No thanks.”

Molly just stares at her for a moment, scandalized. 

“Hey, thanks for helping me and Amy plan all this wedding stuff. It’s a lot and this way we don’t have to hire a wedding planner,” Hope says.

“No problem! I knew that if you planned it there’d just be shit ton of fringe and peace signs, I guess. We need people to _know_ they're at a wedding, not fucking Burning Man. You’ll get my invoice in the mail.”

Hope shakes her head with a smile.

“I’m really glad you’re marrying her, Hope,” Molly says after awhile. 

Hope falters a bit, spoon dangling from her mouth.

“Me?”

Molly looks at her in exasperation. “You’re dumb as hell but I’m still glad. You make her really happy.”

“Wow,” Hope says, looking down at her ice cream in disbelief. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, you’ll ruin it. And I’ll still kill you if you hurt her, and I will get away with it,” Molly replies with an even smile.

Hope’s not gonna lie, she’s a little unnerved. Because it is a promise and Molly isn’t the type to make empty promises.

They get to Annabelle and Amy just as they're wrapping up a conversation with the bookshop owner.

“She gave me some great tips on how to make our Bear’s breeches grow,” Annabelle says in an eager whisper, taking Molly’s arm.

Without warning, it starts to rain. It’s coming down steadily and Hope’s glad she had the foresight to bring an umbrella.

She holds the umbrella up and steps toward Amy, who’s giving her a quiet smile, the rain clinging to her hair. It feels like they’re alone, just the two of them in the rain and Hope’s breath dies on her lips, feels this moment rewriting itself into her memories with all the depth and clarity that makes her swoon in this life and that will help her remember in the next. It’s not as jarring as it was in college, but Hope doesn’t dare move.

The memory finally stores itself safely and Hope feels a tingle in the palm of her hand and just above the small of her back. When Amy wraps an arm around her, the tingling vanishes.

“Are you okay?” Amy asks curiously, leaning into Hope a bit that makes Hope acutely aware of how well they fit together.

Hope lets out a small laugh, a little breathless. She switches the umbrella to her other hand to wrap an arm around Amy’s shoulders.

“Yeah, you’re just breath-taking, that’s all,” Hope answers, a little subdued.

Amy frowns slightly despite the smile still tugging at the corners of her lips. Hope knows that Amy doesn't quite believe her. But she doesn’t question Hope either, just clutches her a little tighter as they follow Molly and Annabelle through the rain back to their car.

Hope feels strangely euphoric and she wants to laugh again. Setting aside their endless past lives together, did Hope ever stand a chance of resisting her? She thinks of Amy’s kindness to Annabelle, way back when in high school, of Molly’s unquestioning love for Amy. She thinks of the way Amy’s hand fits in hers, the sound of her laughter, the way she bites her lip when she’s listening intently and all the other things about Amy that the universe doesn’t have to remind Hope to love.

Amy takes Hope’s hand that’s dangling off her shoulder and kisses Hope’s fingertips. Amy’s done this many times before, casually and otherwise. But to Hope, it always feels new. So, it’s a resounding no. Hope never stood a chance. Not even a little bit.

\---

Hope feels Amy climb into bed next to her.

“I hate when you wear shorts to bed,” Hope comments.

Amy snorts. “You hate when I wear anything to bed.”

“I just don’t see the need,” Hope chuckles. 

Amy lays an arm around Hope’s waist, resting her chin on Hope’s shoulder. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Amy states.

“We’re literally cuddling right now,” Hope replies but it sounds hollow even to her ears. “Not on purpose,” she adds finally.

“Will you please look at me?”

Hope tenses briefly, knows that Amy feels it in her arms, but she obeys because it’s Amy. She turns in Amy’s loose embrace and now’s not the time but Hope slides backwards through the time-loop of their lives together, and the vivid memory of the slope of Amy’s cheek under the aurora borealis almost makes Hope audibly gasp. Thankfully, it’s dark and Amy doesn’t notice.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Hope?” Amy asks, breaking the silence.

_Diving right into it_ , Hope thinks. She shouldn’t be surprised, Amy isn’t one to beat around the bush. Hope hesitates.

“Do you?”

“I asked you first.” And it calms Hope, the way she can hear the smile in Amy’s tone.

“Yeah, but your answer is the only one that matters.”

They’re silent for a moment. Belatedly, Hope realizes how much her shoulders ache a little.

“You know, my parents are pretty religious. So, there wasn’t really much talk about reincarnation or past lives and the like.” Amy pauses. Hope tries keep herself from jumping to conclusions but her mind is racing. “I’ve always abstractly thought that that stuff was possible. But I’ve never really stopped to think about…the mechanics of it.” Amy stops and Hope hears her tilt her head up a little. “It’s…easy to believe that it’s all possible with you. So, maybe you can explain it? Help me understand?”

Hope’s kissing her before Amy even finishes speaking. She misses initially, catching the corner of Amy’s mouth, which makes Amy laugh and that, in turn, makes Hope think that the world is good.

“You believe we’re soulmates?” Hope asks breathlessly when they pull apart. She can’t help but ask because she has to be sure that they’re on the same page.

“I think it would explain why I’ve felt so…strongly for you, all this time,” Amy says after a moment. She chuckles. “I’ve felt a little out of my mind this entire time, feeling the way I do for you. I thought it was like the honeymoon phase of a crush. But it never diminished.” Amy shrugs. “Feels exponential actually.”

“Okay,” Hope says, trying not to sound too in love. “What do you want to know?”

“So, we _are_ soulmates?” Amy presses.

Hope doesn’t know why but she still hesitates.

“Yes.”

“How do you know?

Hope sighs. “I don’t have concrete proof. But I knew it was you the first moment I heard and saw you. And that was confirmed by the flashes of memories I get from our…lives together, from before.”

“Do you remember our lives?” 

“Sometimes. Just snippets of things here and there. But mostly I just remember you.”

“And we’re always together?”

Hope swallows, her fingers searching until they find Amy’s.

“Not always, no.”

“Then how do you _know_?” Amy whispers, taking her hand away from Hope’s and running it through her hair.

Amy’s voice is strained, agitated even, in a way that Hope finds unsettling.

“Why –” Hope falls short, searching Amy’s face. A thought occurs to her abruptly. “I know it’s you. Do you believe me?”

Amy heaves a sigh. “I believe that you think that.” Hope doesn’t really know what to say, anger and hurt and confusion practically clouding her vision, fingers going a bit numb. “I just mean, maybe you’ll come across your soulmate tomorrow or five years from now. If – if you don’t _know_ , then it _is_ a possibility, right?” 

Amy’s eyes are wide. There’s still curiosity there but it’s being overshadowed by…fear?

“Oh,” Hope breathes, and all that anger, hurt, and confusion dissipate. “I’m going to answer that from your perspective first. Then from mine, okay?”

She waits for Amy to confirm.

“Okay,” Amy says, drawing out the word in her confusion.

“You think I got it wrong. That you might not actually be my soulmate. Because you’re thinking in statistics, right? Technically, I can’t know that you’re my soulmate because I haven’t met all seven billion people on this planet. And in that case alone, I’m making you the same ordinary promise that millions of others make when they ask someone to marry them. Although, I think that’s pretty spectacular in and of itself.” Hope stops for a moment but Amy remains silent, looking down at her hands. Hope reaches for them again and feels energized when a memory of ink-stained fingers flashes across her mind. It’s one of their milder past-memories but no less breath-taking. 

“But none of that matters. Because you’re wrong. There’s nothing ordinary about how I love you. In every lifetime, I love you before I even meet you because I’m born for you. My soul recognizes yours as if I’d been starved of you, and I often react viscerally to the onslaught of our before-memories when I first find you. Which is why I couldn’t speak when we first met. Loving you and being loved by you is…” Hope looks up at the ceiling, trying to find the right word. “Exhilarating,” she decides finally, letting the word reverberate in her throat. “I feel that way all the time. So yeah, I _know_ you’re my soulmate.”

Amy still doesn't say anything but Hope can see that she understands what she means, that she believes her. That she's felt it too. And something kind of gives way in Hope because she’s always thought that this part of her would never be known to Amy. That it would be this secret that she would have to keep for herself. Not a bad secret. But a secret nonetheless.

“I’m so sorry that I don’t have a definitive answer or better proof. But I’m also not. Because having a clean-cut answer would impose limits on what this is, on what we are. And I can’t do that. Because most good things I’ve felt in this life have been a direct result of you. And every other good thing just doesn’t quite compare.”

Hope gives her a soft, nervous smile and breathes a little easier. Even if Amy doesn't believe her, at least she'll know that Hope loves her, simply and effortlessly. And that Hope will go on doing so, whether either of them acknowledge it. Like the earth's rotation around the sun. Like a heart beat. Simple and effortless. Immutable.

“So, no limit on your love, huh?” Amy asks after a moment.

“Nope. None.”

Amy turns to her grinning, her eyes shining.

“Because the limit does not exist?”

Hope blinks before burying her face in her hands, a laugh escaping her.

“I’m baring my soul here, Ames, and you think now’s a good time to quote _Mean Girls_?”

“I saw an opportunity and I took it,” Amy shoots back, laughing. 

Hope pokes her in the ribs and they both laugh harder.

“You're my soulmate," Amy says after awhile when they’ve calmed down. It's tentative, like she's testing it out on her tongue, and maybe a little incredulous. But it's also a statement. A fact. Hope didn't think it was possible to be more in love. She shouldn't be surprised that Amy constantly proves her wrong.

Hope notes that it’s passed one in the morning when Amy speaks again.

“The way you asked me to marry you was really moving,” Amy remarks. Hope looks at her sharply, a smile playing about the corners of her lips. Hope can’t quite identify it but there’s something in Amy’s tone that catches her attention.

“What does that mean? Marriage is a turn-on for you?” Hope teases with a small laugh but Amy is noticeably silent next to her. “Wait, me saying, ’will you marry me’ did it for you?” Hope can’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. She feels Amy shrug next to her.

“Not marriage itself. It’s the implications. And the act of asking… There’s a certain devotion in it.” Another shrug. “Call me a romantic.”

Hope can’t help herself as she leans forward to whisper in Amy’s ear, drawing out the words. “Will you marry me?”

Hope had half-thought that Amy was still just fucking with her. But to Hope’s surprise, Amy actually shudders, and Hope feels Amy’s fingers tense against the small of her back. And Hope goes with it because she loves seeing Amy like this: a little bit restless, a little bit needy. 

“Marry me. Please marry me. Right now. We can elope.” Hope touches Amy’s hip, kisses her neck. “Let me be your wife.” Amy practically melts against her.

“Molly will kill you and then me if we elope,” Amy replies, voice a little rough.

Hope makes a disgruntled sound, pulling away. “Amy, I love you but that’s kind of a mood killer.”

Amy laughs. “Probably for the best. We can’t sleep together in Molly and Annabelle’s new place.”

“Why not? We’ll call it a house blessing. And we’ve barely had a moment alone.” Hope pauses, thinking. “Whatever, I’ll settle for making out.”

“’Settle’? Ouch. I don’t think that’s something you’re supposed to say to your literal soulmate. Aren’t you supposed to worship me or something? Kiss the ground I walk on and all that?”

“Shut the fuck up, Antsler,” Hope replies with a snort. 

Even though Hope _does_ worship her and _would_ kiss the ground she walked on. But Hope’s not gonna tell her that. As if Amy needs more examples of how Hope belongs to her.

But then Hope feels Amy’s hand on her jaw as she guides Hope’s head down to her. And Amy’s lips are on hers. It’s much too torrid a kiss to be just a kiss. Hope breaks away to keep herself in check.

“Amy – “

Amy silences her by pushing her onto her back and straddling her.

“If you can be quiet, I’ll show you how I want to be worshipped.”

Hope feels like she’s gonna pass out.

“You think you can talk like that and expect me to be quiet?” Hope breathes and she’s genuinely asking. But Amy laughs and leans down to kiss her. Different from the kiss just before. Now muted and soft. And glorious.

Amy pulls away as she stretches across Hope, tucking herself under Hope’s chin. 

“I’ll make it up to you when we get back to New York. We should try to sleep anyway. Molly’s gonna wanna do more planning tomorrow morning.” 

Hope looks at her curiously, trails soft fingers up and down Amy’s back.

“Are you going to tell her about the whole soulmate thing?”

“Oh, yeah. I can’t wait,” Amy answers easily. “As long as you’re cool with it,” she adds, looking up at Hope.

“As long as she doesn’t think I’m crazy and tell you to break up with me or something,” Hope says, only half joking.

“She won’t,” Amy assures her, laying her head back down against Hope’s chest. “She’s a lot more understanding than you think.”

Hope hums, satisfied, sensing Amy drifting off to sleep.

“Do you know that Gigi thinks you and her are soulmates?”

Amy jolts awake, sleep gone from her eyes.

“What?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record, annabelle's idea for her maid of honor outfit is something like michael urie's one for the met gala last year. you guys know the one. also there was in fact a murder 10,000 years ago in Quintana Roo, archaeologists discovered the skeleton last year.


	6. epilogue

Hope approaches the front desk.

“Hey, Hope. I think Amy’s meeting is running a little late but head on over.”

“Thanks, Herb.”

Hope crosses the room towards the meeting rooms and spots Amy through the glass of the second one as the people around her are taking their seats. Amy looks up to see Hope, a smile breaking through, and she waves her inside.

“Everyone say hello to my lovely wife, Hope.” Amy grins at her.

Hope shakes her head slightly. “I’ve met all of your coworkers. Many times. Hey, everyone.” Hope gives a small wave before turning back to Amy. “Sorry, Herb said that you were running a bit behind. I can wait outside.”

“I actually haven’t started the meeting,” Amy admits. She pauses, thinking. “You know what? Fuck it, no meeting. You all are dismissed. Happy Friday.”

 _Hot_ , Hope thinks, watching and trying not to be too obvious in the fact that she really just wants to stride over, take Amy’s face between her hands, and kiss her. 

Amy receives a small cheer in response and profuse thank you's as everyone rises to their feet to leave.

“You will have an email in your inboxes tonight detailing exactly what I want done in the next two weeks!” Amy calls. 

There are nods of acknowledgement all around and then it’s just Hope and Amy in the room.

Amy takes a deep breath, smile blooming as Hope walks towards her. 

“Hi,” Amy greets softly.

“Hi,” Hope returns, matching Amy’s tone and she doesn’t want to wait any longer, so Hope leans down to brush her lips against Amy’s. “Happy anniversary. You ready to go?” 

Amy nods before glancing at her hesitantly. “We have some time before we have to get to the airport, yeah?”

Hope glances at her watch. “Yes, more than enough time.”

Amy leads them to her office and goes to her desk, opening one of the drawers. 

“I was going to wait until we got to California, if in fact that’s where we’re going,” Amy pauses, giving Hope a shrewd look but Hope only offers an even smile in return. “But I thought maybe it was best not to wait. Happy anniversary.”

Amy hands her a rather large box with silver wrapping paper and a gold bow. It’s light in Hope’s hands and she finds herself strangely nervous as she unwraps it.

“It’s a gift card,” Amy says, then laughs when Hope shoots her a look.

It’s a triple picture frame, the middle frame containing a short letter flanked by pictures of her and Amy. Hope doesn’t make it past the first picture before her eyes begin to fill.

It’s a faraway shot of Amy crouching down next to Hope in the bleachers when they first met. Amy’s smiling and Hope looks a little stunned. Hope can’t help but notice how even then her face was tilted up towards Amy in utter devotion.

“I remembered Samantha was going around taking last-minute pictures for yearbook that day,” Amy explains, her voice soft and warm. “I asked her if she had any pictures of us. It took a long time for her to get back to me. But she did.”

Amy draws her attention to the other picture. “Molly took this picture of all people, can you believe it? Looks like your photography lessons actually paid off.”

It’s her and Amy, exactly a year ago, at their wedding after-party. Hope is holding out Amy’s hand to the camera, Amy’s ring glinting sharply in the foreground. Hope and Amy themselves are still in frame in the background, a little blurry. Despite that, Hope is very obviously pressing her lips to Amy’s temple as Amy leans into her, eyes closed with a content smile on her lips.

Hope has to blink several times to keep the tears from falling. This seems to stave them off for the time being as they finally look at the middle frame and Amy speaks again.

“I asked your boss if I could write a letter to the editor of sorts and if she would publish it on today’s date. Clearly, she agreed. She was pretty enthusiastic actually.”

The letter reads:

_To whom it may concern:  
I married one of your writers exactly a year ago today. And it’s nothing short of magical how I still feel butterflies when I see her face in a crowd and when she holds my hand. I feel like I could do this for eternity with her. So I will._

_Hope, it’s thrilling to be so in love with you and I feel lucky to even know you at all. So, even though we have already promised our forevers to each other, do you think it’s selfish to ask for more time? Even now? Because I want all of it._

_My heart is with you and yours,  
Amy_

Below this, there appears to be a photocopied image of a ten-digit phone number that looks vaguely familiar…

And it hits Hope like lightning, finally recognizing her precise script and her old phone number.

“You kept it?” Hope whispers. “For ten years?”

The letter is short and loving and Hope tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. But that paired with the fact that Amy had kept that stupid little piece of paper with Hope’s old phone number. The one eighteen year-old Hope had written it on in a desperate attempt to be cool and collected as she not-so-casually pursued eighteen year-old Amy. It’s like the last nail in a coffin because Hope is done for and her tears finally spill over. Hope finds herself feeling a little silly as she swipes at her eyes quickly before resting the frame on Amy’s desk.

“Of course, I did,” Amy answers, smiling like it’s obvious. She moves closer to Hope and wraps her arms around her waist, leaning her cheek against Hope’s shoulder as Hope’s arm goes around Amy easily. “This might be stupid for me to say, but I loved the way you wrote your fives. I still do.”

God, all this time, Hope had thought that when they first started dating that she was the only one feeling everything so intensely. She had thought that she had to try so hard to convince Amy to fall in love with her, to help Amy recognize what they are. But maybe Amy didn’t need any help. Maybe she didn’t need any of it. Maybe they _were_ a little inevitable.

“I – uh also got us concert tickets.”

“To see who?” Hope asks, tilting her head a bit to look down at her.

“The Teskey Brothers,” Amy says excitedly.

Hope’s face breaks out into a wide grin and she pulls Amy into her chest, squeezing harder when Amy laughs. Hope leans back a little to look into Amy’s face.

“How did you know – “

Amy rolls her eyes. “I was waiting for them to drop their tour dates the day you started singing their new single in the shower.”

Hope’s jaw drops a little.

“I thought I was so careful,” Hope says softly. “But they aren’t coming to New York until August.”

“I know. I would have gotten tickets to see them while we were in California but…” Amy trails off, looking up at Hope with a knowing smirk.

“I told you that we’re going to visit Annabelle and Molly,” Hope tells her in a last ditch effort to maintain the surprise.

“And Molly told me that Annabelle is at a conference. Also, Molly has a huge case that she can’t take a break from. So, I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful.”

Hope closes her eyes briefly. _Davidson, I swear to god…_

“Please tell me,” Amy practically begs as she kisses Hope’s cheek innocently. But then she presses her lips to Hope’s pulse point and that is less innocent. “I don’t want to have to be…coercive.”

Hope chuckles. “I can be coerced.”

She glances at Amy and Amy stares back at her with wide, imploring eyes before folding her arms and frowning, mildly, adorably petulant. How exactly is Hope supposed to say no that? Hope sighs and reaches into her bag for an envelope. She passes it to Amy wordlessly. Amy shifts her gaze to Hope before trying to open it.

“It’s a gift card,” Hope says.

“Fuck you,” Amy replies automatically without glancing up, making Hope chuckle. 

Amy looks inside and, again, Hope is remarkably nervous as she watches for Amy’s reaction. Finally, Amy looks up at her, brow furrowed in slight confusion.

“We’re going to Botswana?”

Hope tries to smother a grin as she gives a small nod. “Yeah.”

Amy’s features morph into surprise then disbelief then pure delight. Hope wonders if she’ll get to remember this moment, Amy’s expressions, in her next life. Because she really wants to. 

Amy bounces on the ball of her heels, full on grinning, and Hope can tell that it’s taking everything in her not to squeal. Hope can’t help but laugh.

“Thank you, thank you, Hope! Fuck, I love you.” Amy pecks her lips. She reaches for her phone in her back pocket. “I should see if Shelo has some free time.”

“She does. I asked her like two months ago if she’d be able to see us if we were to visit. She’s very excited and will pick us up when we land.”

Amy stares, jaw a little slack.

“You’ve been planning our first anniversary for two months?”

Hope ducks her head, unable to look Amy in the eye as she answers.

“Four, actually.” Hope looks up and Amy’s jaw is somehow more slack, so she rushes to explain. “It takes about that long to plan an international trip. And anyway, I was just spit-balling ideas. It was in its nascent phase then and I had other things on the docket should it have fallen through.” Amy still doesn’t say anything and it’s starting to make Hope anxious. “I just wanted to give you something that would make you seem crazy if you were to ever divorce me.”

That seems to do it as Amy bursts into Hope’s favorite type of laughter from her: uninhibited and elixir for the ears. She throws herself into Hope’s arms, still giggling.

“Maybe I should. Just so I can marry you again.”

Hope pulls back and glances at her with some alarm. 

“I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it is.”

“No, yeah. Now that I hear it out loud – “ 

Hope kisses her, long and slow, leaning over her so much that they bump into Amy’s desk. When Hope pulls away, she’s pleased to see the somewhat dazed look in Amy’s hazel eyes.

“I love you,” Amy says softly, like she doesn’t have to think about it and Hope feels like her heart is expanding.

“I love you too.” Hope releases her and reaches for her picture frame. “I’ve already packed your bags and everything back at the house. Are you ready?”

Hope holds out a hand to her. Amy closes her eyes for a moment, like she still can’t quite believe it, before clasping Hope’s hand firmly and grabbing their tickets.

“Yeah.”

They leave, bidding Herb goodbye as they pass him. Hope steps into the sunlight first, feels the warmth on her face and is amazed to find that Amy’s hand in hers feels the same way. She thinks about how this simple combination makes her feel as if she can grow sunflowers in her throat. Her mind seems to agree as it quietly engraves this moment into a forever-memory, leaving a resulting buzzing feeling in her cheeks and knuckles.

Amy squeezes her hand and when Hope looks back, Amy gives her a soft smile like she knows.

They’re twenty-eight but Hope still feels sixteen. Well, she knows that she isn’t sixteen. She pays bills and doesn’t stay up as late as she used to. But she still _feels_ sixteen when she looks at Amy because being in love with Amy is both new and infinite all at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to 'hold me' by the teskey brothers as i was writing this and i thought it was pretty appropriate. i hope this makes you feel like sunshine. and thank you for reading as always.


End file.
